Days of Wine and Roses
by nightcap
Summary: Time is what makes a human life precious. How does Mick adjust to hearing the minutes of his human existence tick away? Storyline begins just after Josh's funeral.
1. Sunrise

Disclaimer: Nothing about Moonlight is owned by me. But my greatest appreciation to the people who gave us such a wonderful story to expand on!

My thanks to NeteleJala for reviewing this story and offering her wise advice to a novice writer.

The story takes up after Josh's funeral. So we have a very battered, human Mick to deal with.

DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES

Chapter One-Sunrise

It was magnificent. He had almost forgotten the beauty of an impending sunrise. He smiled slightly and shook his head. No..that wasn't right. He _had_ forgotten the beauty even though he would never have admitted it over the years. It had simply faded and lost its luster. Like many other memories he brought out from time to time to ruminate on from his human past. Memories that were growing hazy and pale as the years wore on.

He stood at the ledge of his rooftop facing the east. He'd risen early to climb the stairs to the roof. His injured hip and knee had protested at the added weight of lifting his body up each step but he wanted to view this event as a human. He didn't know how many chances he might have. This was day two of his rebirth into humanity. There might not be many more and he wanted to make the most of the time he'd been given.

The colors in the sky were still pastel and soft. Creamy yellows blending with silky blues were streaking the sky low on the horizon. The buildings in the distance were silhouetted by the approaching day.

He stretched his hands over the concrete edging as if to brace himself and watched for the first rays of true light to penetrate into the morning. Moment by moment the sky changed from the soft colors ending the night to the brighter, sharper hues that would begin the new day. And then, finally, the white piercing light of the sun exploded over the city.

He inhaled sharply and held his breath as the sun struck him. Lifting his battered face to the sky he closed his eyes and watched the warm glow through his lowered lids. He exhaled and surprised himself as a laugh escaped from his lips. The sensation was amazing. And now he remembered. Remembered other sunrises from long ago. The memories flooding his mind as the sun cascaded across the rooftops_. How could I have forgotten this? What else has quietly disappeared from my life without me being aware that it was even gone?_

His mind came to rest on Beth. _Is she gone as well_? She seemed responsive to him while they talked at Josh's graveside services. He would really like to share this time with her. If she would put aside her anger at him and her own guilt about her feelings for Josh then maybe he'd have a chance.

He had stood with her on this rooftop just weeks earlier. Her hands and body trying to shield him from the morning sunlight that was burning his skin and drawing his strength away after only minutes of exposure. Not even her closeness or her kiss could keep the pain at bay for long. The growing daylight had forced him to move into the shadows of the building for protection. But he had looked back at her before leaving the roof to see her standing in the sun. The rays of light reflected in her blond tresses and her face showed a radiance that could only come from a mortal. It had made him sick to think how far removed he was from what she was. She looked like an angel. And he knew what that made him.

But now he had an opportunity to show her who Mick St. John really was. Not some kind of killing monster but a man who could show real love and compassion. Who liked music and jokes and reading the comics in bed on Sunday mornings. And yes….sunrises. The man he was back in 1952.

He'd never felt the pressure of time slipping away before. He'd been a young man when he was turned. Still with plenty of life left to do with as he wanted. After his turning there was nothing _but_ time. A never ending supply of days and weeks and years stretched before him. No, time was not a precious commodity to a vampire. But it was to a human.

He needed to make the most of this time he'd been granted. To savor and enjoy every moment of this gift. He would need the strength of these days to bolster himself to go on living after he reverted. A frown creased his face at the thought. It was not something he wanted to dwell on._I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. But not yet…not yet._

He glanced down at the streets below him. Traffic was picking up. More people and cars were moving through the city now. It was odd that he was transfixed by such mundane activity. It reminded him of when he was first turned. He would stare at something for the fascination the colors and textures held without ever appreciating the item itself. He could have done this for hours on end had not Coraline forced him to move on. Her patience would only be pushed so far and she'd had much to teach him. All of which he'd found appalling.

He reluctantly turned from the morning skyline and headed across the roof to the door leading into the stairwell. His leg was not as painful as yesterday but it would be several days before he would be walking without a limp. He had taken the beating of his life as a mortal and was aware of how lucky he was to have survived at all. Besides, the pain was a validation to him that, for the moment, he was no longer a vampire.

As he negotiated the steps he leaned heavily on the handrail to help reduce the pressure on his injured hip and knee. He chuckled. _Oh, if Josef could see me now. _He had a good idea that his best friend would have little sympathy for him in his current frail condition.

He did need to speak with Josef though. He was still formulating how to go about meeting with his best friend. He wasn't sure if walking boldly as a human into Josef's domain would be advisable. There could be other vamps around and his human scent would be at odds with what they were seeing. They would instantly be put on their guard. And Mick would be the first to admit that he was more than a little off his game as far as doing hand to fang combat with a vampire. Perhaps asking Josef over for a drink at his place would be a better idea.

First things first though. His stomach was calling for food. He still had a refrigerator full of leftovers from the buffet of delivery food he ordered two nights ago. And after Josh's funeral he had stopped at a local grocery to pick up some basics.

He'd spent over an hour in the store and come out with only one small bag. He hadn't been grocery shopping in 55 years and had been overwhelmed with the choices. He'd strolled down one aisle after another occasionally placing an item in the plastic basket he held in one hand until the smells from the bakery drew his attention. He'd picked up dozens of packages of breads and sweet-rolls from the shelves for examination before settling on a loaf of potato bread and a jelly filled Danish from the display case. He'd eaten the Danish in his car before he left the parking lot because he could no longer stand the enticing smell of it.

Wishing now that he'd bought two he poured himself a glass of milk and drank half of it immediately. _Had blood ever tasted as good as this?_ It must have because he'd drunk plenty of it from this very glass. That thought stopped him in mid-swallow. His eyes traveled to the hidden door at the back of the refrigerator. There were at least six bags of blood lying behind that door. He finished swallowing the milk and lowered his glass to the counter. The idea of drinking from those bags made his lips curl in disgust.

Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl he ambled over to the living room and sat in one of the cushioned chairs. He bit into the fruit and started to consider what to do with his day.

He had several things on his mental 'to do' list. One was to contact Josef. He also had a couple of cases that just needed some paperwork done in order to close the files on them. That would leave him with a clear schedule because he wasn't going to take anything new until his human vacation was over. He had also decided to buy a bed.

He'd already spent two nights too many sleeping on the couch and wasn't about to spend the rest of his nights as a human trying to get comfortable on it. He longed for cool sheets and warm blankets and something a little more forgiving to his aching body than that damnable sofa. And pillows! Soft, plump pillows to lay his head on! He took another bite of the apple and leaned forward with his hands between his knees to look at the suddenly offensive piece of furniture. Now, in the light of day, it didn't appear to be the torture chamber it had felt like last night.

Josef wouldn't be up until much later so he could put off that confrontation until after he'd bought the bed. If he purchased it early enough today and gave an extra hefty tip for delivery he might be sleeping in his own bed tonight. The thought propelled him to his desk computer to seek out the nearest store where the current object of his desire might be waiting. Several listings came up on the screen. He chose three he thought might be the closest and jotted the addresses down on some note paper.

He leaned back in his chair, finished off the apple and smiled. Yes! It was going to be a good day! And, with any luck at all, a good night!


	2. Epiphany

Thank you for the encouraging reviews. And again to NeteleJala for reviewing the text.

Day of Wine and Roses-Chapter 2- Epiphany

Beth stretched her body but refused to open her eyes. The bed felt too good to leave. Warm and close. The blankets were a protective shell around her keeping the world at bay.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked lazily at the broad bare shoulders of the body beside her. She smiled and let her hand reach dreamily out to trace a finger down the center of the familiar back and then back up to the nape of his neck. Spreading her fingers she ran them up the back of his head and buried them in his short dark hair.

"Josh?" Her voice was soft and thick from sleep. "Are you awake?" She dropped her hand to the side of his face to tickle his ear.

"Yeah. Are you?" he responded without moving.

"Yeah." she said. She snuggled closer to him and placed her hand flat on his back and started rubbing his shoulders.

He sighed, turned over and propped himself up on his elbow so that he was looking down at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He raised an eyebrow quizzically but his face remained passive. A slight frown crossed her face. She had expected a warmer response from him. It wasn't like him to be so withdrawn, especially first thing in the morning. Their early morning minutes were always sensual if not sexual. The caressing and kissing were buffers to the battles they both faced in their daily work lives.

"I love you." she whispered . She continued to look into his eyes for the softening that usually appeared when she said those words.

"Really? You have a strange way of showing it." His voice was flat and his face held a rigid tension.

"What do you mean?" she asked. _This wasn't like him at all._ She pulled away slightly, putting a few more inches of distance between them so that she could better see his face.

"You knew me Beth. Better than anyone…you knew me." He had drawn himself up on his right side and was now bracing his upper body on one arm.

She was startled by the hardness in his voice. The words were almost an accusation. _What did he mean that she knew him? Of course she knew him. They'd been together for over a year. She knew everything about him. Except why he was acting this way._

_  
_  
"You did this to me, Beth. You used _him_, but _you_ did this." There was no emotion in his voice.

Surprisingly fast he lifted himself to his knees and straddled her hips, effectively pinning her to the bed. Straightening his arms he placed a hand on either side of her head to support his body and looked down at her. She raised her hands to his chest in a feeble defensive posture and pressed her head deeper into the pillow.

His features were cold and hard. His normally deep brown eyes were becoming lighter and more reflective. Everything about his face looked more angular and shadowed. She did know Josh and this was not him! He was always worrying about her. He would never purposely frighten her.

He lowered his head toward her. "Is this what you wanted Beth? IS IT?!" he snarled as he shook the bed in its frame..

She drew in a sharp breath as she stared at him looming over her. His eyes were now an icy blue. He dropped his head down even closer to hers and moved his nose over her face, sniffing the fear-filled air clinging to her. He pulled back and growled softly still holding her eyes with his.

"Is this how much you loved me?" he said softly. "Or, at this very moment, are you looking at your own guilt?" He spat the last word out at her and grinned widely, showing the fangs that had appeared in the even span of his teeth.

"No! No Josh!" Her heart felt like it was going to come through her chest and she started screaming. She pushed at him with her hands and kicked with her legs to try to dislodge him from his perch atop her. He lifted his face to the ceiling and laughed at her attempts, then stopped abruptly and stared down at her.

She knew this transformation! She had seen this change in Mick. But why was it happening to Josh? And why now? Her mind was struggling to fit the pieces together. What was it she was missing? Why wasn't her brain working?

She watched his gaze travel down from her eyes to her throat, which was pulsing from her exertion. He looked quickly into her eyes once more before tilting his head for a better angle and rapidly descending to her neck. Her skin gave way easily as he plunged his fangs into the soft tissue beneath her right ear and began to feed.

Her breath seemed to have caught in her lungs and she stopped struggling. She wanted to fight! She couldn't let this happen! But she had no control over the situation. She was helpless. And this made her as angry as it made her afraid.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

"No! Don't Josh! Please don't!" she cried out. Her legs were pistons driving down the covers and pushing her higher on the bed. Her head bumped up against the headboard and brought her painfully to consciousness. She scrambled to a sitting position and looked frantically around the bedroom for Josh. Breathing hard, and still whimpering from the remnants of her nightmare, her hand jerked to the side of her neck. She didn't feel or see any blood even though she looked at her hand twice.

_It was just a nightmare….breathe…..breathe slower…..  
_  
She took a deep ragged breath and tried unsuccessfully to relax her shoulders. The hair on her arms and neck was still standing on end. She shuddered once and ran her hands over her face and into her hair.

Thinking action might make the nightmare recede she got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. A look in the mirror told her just how badly she'd been frightened. Her eyes were large and her face still flushed from her efforts to completely unmake her bed. She lifted her chin and turned her head to the left to check her neck for any marks. _It had been so real! _She'd felt Josh's teeth sinking into her throat and his mouth sucking her  
life from her. It had been terrifying and infuriating! She ran some water into her hands and rubbed her face with it to hoping to shake the last of the fear_. Is that what it was really like? Helpless fear?  
_  
Light was starting to filter into the apartment. It had to be around 6:00 a.m. She peeked back into the bedroom to check the time but her alarm clock had been knocked to the floor along with her blankets and pillows. _What a perfect ending to a perfect night._ Sleep had not been her friend the past few nights and this mornings little episode had been the frosting on the cake so to speak.

Mick had told her about being turned by Coraline on their wedding night but she had not considered the terror he must have felt during the event. She was sure the fear she'd felt during her dream had been nothing compared to the reality he'd faced that night over 50 years ago and the total change in his life afterward. He had known nothing about the vampire community. He had been completely blindsided.

She tried to imagine what it must have been like. Having to leave everyone he loved. Not being able to return to favorite spots for fear of being discovered. Knowing his family and friends were still living their lives without him and were wondering what had happened to him. Watching them from a distance because he cared for them and could not risk their safety, nor their questions, by becoming involved.

He made his life appear so easy and normal to her. And the times he didn't were times when it was beneficial for him to be….well…what he was. Oh yeah…she'd tied it all up in a neat little package. But when she pulled the lid off the box the ugly truth inside popped out.

Mick had tried to tell her of the negative side of vampirism. She offhandedly thought she understood. However, living forever in a youthful, strong, healthy body didn't seem all that bad of a trade-off for changing your diet and sleeping habits. But she was beginning to sense there was far more to the downside than she had cared to admit. Something that Mick struggled with daily in his interactions with mortals. And probably even more so with her. He tried to keep the lid on that box to protect her. To keep her innocent of the nature of the beast he tried to keep under control.

She headed to the kitchen to make some coffee and thought better of it. With her nerves already on overload she really didn't need the caffeine. She stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open and picked up a quart of milk. One shake of the jug was enough to convince her that milk was not on the menu this morning. She put the container of jelled liquid back on the shelf and reached for an individual orange juice bottle that seemed to be her only other option.

Sitting down on one of the kitchen stools she poured the juice in a glass and mulled over the dream. She knew it had risen from those last few seconds she'd had with Josh before he died. She'd asked Mick to turn him. She had wanted Josh to live and had placed Mick in a hopeless situation. He couldn't have turned Josh in the time available to him even had he agreed. And he was right to have refused.

Had Josh been given the choice, he would have opted to keep his humanity no matter what the consequences. About this she had no doubt. He would not have adapted well to the life she would have bound him to. He would have hated himself, and her, for committing him to the type of life that Mick lived. She would have become to Josh what Coraline was to Mick. A reminder of all the things that could never be because of a decision she had made for him.

It was so much easier to be angry with Mick than to admit how guilty her feelings for Josh had made her. The last time they'd made love had convinced her they were no longer the couple Josh thought they were. But she hadn't, at that point, acknowledged why. Now, there was a nasty little worm of a thought in her mind that it was because of her growing attraction to Mick.

She rested her chin in her hand and ran a finger around the lip of the glass. She had laid the blame of Josh's death and her guilt at Mick's doorstep instead of owning up to it herself. She had encouraged Josh to continue with the case which had ended his life. She was the one who hadn't been able to tell him she no longer loved him. Mick was not responsible for either situation. But he had taken the brunt of her emotions.

Tears filled her eyes as she considered how unfairly she had treated him. She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head thinking of what she had said to him that first evening. _Why do you go on living if you hate it so much? _He had reeled from the words like she had struck him a physical blow. She could still see the stunned look on his face as he grasped for a response. She hadn't been receptive to his attempts to talk with her about what had happened….or rather had not happened. She had turned a deaf ear to his pleas for her to understand his position.

She shook her head and a grimace of dismay appeared on her face. She had really played the 'holier-than-thou' card with him. She hadn't wanted Josh to die. However, her reasons for asking Mick to turn Josh were not as honest and forthright as she thought at the time. She had been willing to suffer Josh's anger and hate to absolve herself of the guilt she felt at pretending to reciprocate his love.

The clock over the kitchen sink read 7:00. _I wonder what hours Mick is keeping? _He might be up if he'd switched his sleeping patterns.

Needing to hear his voice she punched the speed dial number for his phone. It was on but went to his voice-mail. _So, he was there…just not answering his calls._

"Hi Mick. It's me. Look…" she paused. "I was wondering if we could meet to talk?" She heard herself starting to stammer. "I just….well…I thought we could….., just give me a call when you……

The line suddenly opened and Mick came on.

"Beth! Hey! Sorry, I was away from the phone and couldn't get to it before my voice-mail picked up." He sounded out of breath.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be up or not. This is usually when you go to bed." she said.

"Yeah, well, my sleeping habits have changed some over the last couple of days. What's up? You said you wanted to get together?"

"Yeah," she said. "I think we need to talk some things over. Kind of clear the air."

"Sure," he said hesitantly. "What time did you have in mind?"

"Well, I thought I might drop over this morning. If you're not busy that is!" she added hastily.

"I have a couple of errands to run this morning. If you want to ride along I can come pick you up. Say in about 30 minutes?"

Thirty minutes? She was still in her nightshirt!

"Make it an hour and you've got a deal!" she said as she trotted toward the shower.

"One hour it is then. Umm….have you had breakfast?" he asked.

"No, not yet." She considered the meager stores she had in her kitchen. Food had been low on her interest list since Josh had died. What was still in the refrigerator she was sure would be inedible by now if she could even determine what it had originally been.

"I'll bring some then. See you in bit." he said, then the line went dead.

The water was running in the shower now. As she laid the phone on the vanity she thought about what he had said. Sharing breakfast with Mick was an experience she never thought she'd have. She just hoped that whatever he brought over would go well with crow. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and saw a hint of a smile on her face. It had been days since she'd felt like smiling.

She raised her hand to look at the ring she still wore on her finger. It represented a future that would never have happened even if Josh had lived. She took it off and placed it in the jewelry tray on the counter. Josh had wanted to marry her and had died thinking she would say yes to his proposal. She found it strangely enlightening to discover her answer would have been 'No'.


	3. Introductions

**Disclaimer: Nothing about Moonlight is owned by me, much to my dismay.**

**Sorry the chapters are coming through slowly but thanks for sticking with the story and taking the time to review.**

Days of Wine and Roses-chapter 3-Introductions

Mick heard his phone ring.

Ring one caused him to reach into his jeans pocket even as he realized he didn't have the phone on him.

At ring number two he turned to look at the expanse of his apartment to try to zero in on the chime. His hearing failed the test but he remembered he'd left it on the counter in the kitchen last night.

Three and four gave him time to rise from his chair and wrench his knee in the process of rounding the desk a little too quickly. His usual physical grace had been replaced by an awkwardness he wasn't used to.

He reached the kitchen just as his voice-mail was kicking on. By the time he saw it was Beth calling and flipped his phone open his knee was throbbing and he was a little out of breath. His ribs were sore enough that the exertion caused him to take more shallow breaths. _So much for speed and agility!_

Her voice caused his heart to speed up and he felt a faint flush come into his face. An unexpected but not unpleasant feeling. It could be anxiety or anticipation. He was so out of sync with his human responses it was hard to tell. So he tried to focus on her words rather than his physical reaction to her voice.

So she wanted to talk. OK. When Beth talked she usually had a lot to say. That she wanted to see him for this talk could be good or bad. He could think of only two reasons for her to want to "clear the air". Either she wanted to come to some sort of reconciliation over the events of the last few days or she wanted to tell him personally that reconciliation was never going to happen.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of her making the latter choice. _Yep…that was definitely a touch of anxiety._

He'd been trying for months to convince her that being involved in his life was not a wise choice. But he never went the full measure. He was afraid that he might get what he really didn't want. A life without her was devoid of any pleasure.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and walked to the downstairs bathroom where he opened a small bottle of ibuprofin he'd bought the night before. He tapped two tablets into his palm. After a moment of consideration he bumped one more into his hand and then threw all three into his mouth and swallowed. He turned the tap on and slurped the water from his hand.

Raising his head from the basin he looked at his face in the mirror. Whatever her decision was, he would abide by it. _But I don't have to do it in pain_. He grabbed the bottle of pills and stuffed them in his pocket.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

It was just a little over an hour later that he stood in front of her door. It opened just as he was getting ready to knock.

"Hey." She said softly.

"Hey." He smiled back at her.

They stood there looking at each other for several moments until he raised one hand which held a paper bag.

"Breakfast?" He shook the bag a little and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Oh! Yeah! I'm sorry. Come on in." She continued to stare at his face as he passed her in the doorway.

"I brought coffee and juice." He said as he walked over to the kitchen counter with the bag. He rummaged around in the bag pulling out one of each drink and held them up for her decision.

"I think I'm up for some coffee now. Thanks for bringing this over."

"Not a problem." He took the remaining juice bottle out of the bag and turned to put them in the refrigerator.

"Wow!" he said and started chuckling.

"What?" she asked as she peeled the lid off of her coffee cup and sat down on a kitchen stool.

"I can't believe I have more food in my refrigerator than you have in yours!" He set the bottles side by side on an empty shelf and reached for a small cardboard container. He opened it and eyed it suspiciously. "What is this?"

"Oh, it's just some Chinese I picked up….awhile back."

"Really?" he sniffed it and wrinkled his nose. "From what dynasty?" He dropped the offensive container in the trash and dipped his head back into the refrigerator. He reached for the milk jug and held it up to eye level. Jiggling it back and forth he turned to her. "Is this milk?"

"Used to be."

"You know… I have bags of blood back at my place that look better than this!" He tried to pour the contents of the jug into the sink drain but it wouldn't slide through the opening. He shook his head, put the lid back on and threw it in the trash with the Chinese food."

"Well, from what I can tell, you have two bottles of juice, something that might have been an orange at one time and some various condiments. I think we need to get some food in the house for you."

"Yeah, like you know all about buying groceries!" she smiled. It felt good to banter back and forth like this. It was putting her more at ease.

"Actually, I do! I found a nice little store a few blocks from my place. Which," He raised his finger in the air as he approached the counter. "is where I found…….these!" He tore open the side of the small bakery bag and laid out two decadent looking pastries. Flakey croissants with white frothy filling and a heavy dusting of powdered sugar. He leaned his forearms on the counter on either side of the open bag and looked at them as though they were valuable treasures. Tipping his head up he looked directly at her from the opposite side of the counter. His eyes crinkled in a youthful grin. "So, do you want the one with the sugar? Or the one with more sugar?"

Beth looked into his face and tried to discern what was different about it. The cuts were healing and he still had a slightly black eye though the puffiness had gone down. There was just something she couldn't put her finger on.

He suddenly looked down and cleared his throat, then stood up and backed away from the counter somewhat. She had made him uncomfortable and that hadn't been her intention at all. She just wanted to know…what it was. She knew he was human for the time being. But this was something she sensed on a more emotional level.

"I'll take the one with just the sugar. Fewer calories." she quipped. She grabbed one of the treats and licked the filling from the edges with her tongue.

He relaxed again and took the remaining pastry and followed her lead in eating it. Although not as neatly. He managed to squeeze frosting over his fingers and ended up with powdered sugar on his cheek. She giggled as she dropped her pastry back on the bag and reached across the counter to wipe the sugar dust from his face with her thumb. Laughter bounced between them until he saw her studying him again.

He looked down at his hands and picked up a napkin to wipe his fingers.

"Well, that was messy." He sounded a little embarrassed. "And it had enough sugar in it to make your teeth ache!" He took a swallow from his coffee cup and looked up to meet her eyes.

She stared at him intently. His face, his body, his whole demeanor. He looked softer. More vulnerable. Warmer. Different and yet not different.

"Mick?" He held her eyes with his. "This is really you, isn't it? I mean, if I'd been there in 1952 you're the man I would have met."

He looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "There really is a certain attraction vampires have. That perpetual coolness I spoke of wasn't just a passing joke. This is who I am without the vamp appeal. Just a guy. Not anything special."

He let his gaze flick back to her face and then stared earnestly at his coffee cup. "Too much has happened over the years for me to be the same man I was back then. But it feels like I've just come up for air after being under water. Everything looks and feels fresh and alive!" A soft huff escaped from him. "I'm a combination of the vampire you've met and the man you've never known. I'd like you to know Mick St. John the human. He has some pretty good qualities too." He kept glancing at her and then back at his coffee. Like he was afraid of what he might see in her face.

She suddenly stood up and brushed her hands together to rid them of the last of the sugar. His eyes widened at her abrupt gesture and he bit down on his lower lip nervously_. This doesn't look good. I've screwed this up somehow_. He swallowed roughly and waited for fate to deal him the next installment of his life.

She straightened her back, looked him sternly in the eye and extended her hand across the counter to him in a rather formal gesture.

"Mr. St. John? I'm Beth Turner. And I'm very pleased to meet you!" A warm smile lit up her face.

He stared unbelievingly at her hand and then into her face. A broad grin reached up to his eyes as he accepted her handshake. He shifted his fingers to encircle hers and noticed, with some surprise, that her skin was cooler than his own. He was sharing his warmth with her.

"Miss Turner." He dipped his head slightly but never took his eyes from hers. "The pleasure is entirely mine."


	4. Loose Ends

**Disclaimer: Nope, Moonlight isn't mine though I covet it greatly!**

**All those out there who like Carl raise their hands! OK..so not so many. But he makes things a little more interesting. Can't have Mick and Beth all the time. Got to have a pot-stirrer and Carl is just the man for the job.**

**Thanks for your reviews and comments and sorry for taking so long to update. Real life just gets in the way sometimes!**

Days of Wine and Roses-Chapter 4-Loose Ends

Carl Davis stood in the doorway to Josh Lindsey's office. It had been stripped of all his personal items. They had been boxed up and given to Beth Turner since she had been listed as Lindsey's next of kin.

Carl looked around at the denuded walls and shelves. He remembered exactly where one photo of the couple had hung on the wall. An 8X10 enlargement of a snapshot showing them with their faces so close together they could have kissed…and probably did just seconds after the flash went off. A handsome, perfect couple with a bright future before them. What would you call half of a couple like that? Lonely and devastated Carl imagined.

He'd never experienced the richness in his own personal life that he had seen between the couple. A sad fact but a fact none the less. One he seemed unable to change. He would admit that the end to the few relationships he'd had were attributable to him and not the lady. He had on occasion noted a little pang of jealousy arise when he saw Lindsey and Beth together. A lucky couple who turned out to be not so lucky.

He sighed, walked behind the desk and dropped himself in the chair. Placing his elbow on the arm of the chair he raised his hand to support his chin and spun the chair slowly around to take in the entire room. _An empty office waiting for its new occupant._ He had spent many hours in this office planning the strategy for working various cases. It seemed wrong for it to take so little time to erase a man from existence. But…life goes on. Lindsey wasn't the first or last man Carl had worked with that had been killed. This could be an ugly business.

He sat upright and rubbed his hands over his face. It had been one hell of a week.

They were down two Assistant District Attorneys in the last two months. Kevin Branch was facing charges of conspiracy and now Lindsey had been murdered. Carl was an extremely good judge of character and had determined Branch was a weak link from the first time they'd met.

But Lindsey was another story. He was young and ambitious but his agenda wasn't as self-serving as so many of the others. Lindsey actually wanted to-and had-made a difference. He'd been one of the few good ones that Davis had worked with over the years. They didn't come along very often and he hated like hell that Lindsey had been murdered.

He also felt responsible. How had things gotten out of control so fast? That St. John had still been in the safe house had been a stroke of luck. Otherwise they might have lost Beth as well. She had raced out of the house before any of them knew what was happening. He had been amazed at how rapidly she'd escaped but even more so at the speed Mick used in following her. He was there on the steps one moment and the next was in the car with her hurtling after the kidnappers.

Carl had hand-picked the team to protect Beth Turner since she was the significant other in Lindsey's life. Tejada worked on the friends and family of those he wanted to intimidate. They hadn't been expecting a direct attack on an Assistant District Attorney. That was a very bold act and he wondered if Lindsey had known he had crossed some line in Tejada's book that had made it a personal vendetta.

They had the murderer in custody and it was going to be an easy high profile conviction. A real feather in someone's cap. But that didn't bring the real murderer to justice. Tejada was still out there.

The lead Mick had given them was a wash. All they'd found when they arrived at the bar was a normal drinking crowd. They could have made a dozen arrests for drunk drivers but there was nothing to indicate Tejada had ever been in the place.

If that was how St. John made his living then he wasn't very good at it. And Carl knew otherwise. It raised a question that he knew he would follow-up on at an opportune time. Questions and answers made his world go around.

A thought struck him that he and Beth were not so unalike. Maybe that was why he gave in to her so frequently when she arrived at a crime scene. He understood how her mind worked. Sometimes you had questions and sometimes you had answers. You just had to put the two together in the right order. He was very good at doing that. And he had seen Beth getting better at it all the time.

All of Lindsey's high profile open cases had been assigned to those most likely to succeed. He could imagine the up-and-comers for the two open positions fighting over them like rabid dogs.

That left the low profiles to be closed. I's dotted, T's crossed, signatures in the right places and the folders would be filed away probably never to see the light of day again.

Which was why he was sitting in what was left of Josh Lindsey's dismantled office.

He'd been told to close up the last of the cases no one wanted to spend time on. Or least no one who made more money than he did. So, here he sat in Lindsey's chair fingering through the last files in the desk drawer.

Finally addressing the task at hand he pulled them out of the drawer and slapped them down on one side of the desk. Each file was named and most of them he recognized as cases they'd worked on together over the last few months. He would handle the more involved ones and farm the others out to have the loose ends tied up on them.

He opened each one for a quick review and then tossed it on a stack that he'd determined would be given to some unlucky detective for final closure. Forty minutes later he was nearing the end of the job and wasn't even bothering to scan the file names any longer. He'd reach out and grab a new file, open it, review the cover sheet quickly and lob it at one of the stacks. He noticed grimly that the one he'd assigned to himself was taller than the others and was threatening to slide off the back of the desk.

He was surprised when the last file he opened didn't have the usual formal documentation. His eyes scanned over several receipts. He frowned slightly, closed the folder and turned it over to check for a name. 'Beth'.

He opened it again and started sorting through the papers. _Hmmm. Probably a personal file that had been left behind_. The receipts were from a local jeweler. _Evidently Lindsey had been getting a ring reset for Beth. And at a pretty penny too. An engagement ring?_

He knew they'd been going together for over a year. Back in October he remembered Lindsey backing out of a meeting he was trying to arrange. When he'd pushed for a reason Lindsey had grabbed him by his shoulders, grinned broadly and said; "Because Carl, I'm preparing an anniversary dinner for the most beautiful girl in the world." Carl had groused about it at the time but now it brought a rueful smile. Who knew back then how little time was left?

There was also a report from Dr. Rosen about the injury Beth had on her arm after she returned from the desert with Mick and Leni. Carl thought it interesting that Josh had chosen the doctor they used occasionally when they needed an outside medical opinion on a case. Surely, Beth had her own physician.

In any case, the good doctor felt that the wounds were more consistent with a bite rather than running afoul of a chain link fence. But there hadn't been any evidence of infection and her arm was healing nicely from the triple antibiotic cream she said she'd been applying.

He recognized Lindsey's handwriting on the report the doctor had provided.

'bite? animal? No lacerations. Directly on the vein. Why lie?'

_This was interesting. Lindsey had smelled something wrong and was doing a little private investigating of his own. And on his own girlfriend. Strange line to pursue. Why would he have any reason to think the wounds on Beth's arm were anything other than what she had said they were?_

The last document in the folder was older. It was a missing persons report on Beth from 1985. She would have been four years old when she was kidnapped from her home. Her mother had filed a report but there hadn't been any leads to follow and the police investigation had foundered. The file was closed a few days later when the girl was returned to her mother by a PI firm in LA. 'St. John Investigations'.

Carl's eyes narrowed and he sat up more rigidly in the chair. His interest definitely piqued. What was Lindsey looking for? And why? Police don't believe in coincidence and the similarity between St. John Investigations and Mick St. John, Private Investigator struck a sour chord with him.

On the back of the report were more handwritten remarks from Lindsey.

'Who was the investigator? A relative? Father? Who was Beth's 'scary lady'?

Behind the report were two photos. One of Beth and the other of Mick St. John.

"Lt. Davis?"

"What!" Carl snapped his head up in surprise to see Lindsey's secretary standing at the doorway to the office. He quickly closed the file and thought immediately how guilty the action made him look…and feel.

"I was just checking to see if there was anything you needed." She looked at him over the files on the desk and took a tentative step closer to the desk.

"Uh…Lisa…Yes there is. Could you take these files to Detective Austin's desk? They need a few things followed up on before we close them." He stood up and pushed a stack of the manila folders across to her. Hoping to ease the moment, and give him a chance to regain his composure, he gave her an uncharacteristic smile.

"Sure." She said uncertainly. She walked up to the desk and lifted them from the surface without looking at them. Her eyes, he noticed, were on the folder still in his hands. "Anything else?" she asked.

"Yes." He felt like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He placed Beth's folder upside down on the few remaining files he had left to read and gestured to the stacks of folders. "These others I'll need distributed to…Major, Campbell and Engles." He tapped each stack with his finger as he said the names. "These," he reached to collect the ones he'd decided to work on, "I'll be taking with me."

"OK." she said slowly. "Why don't you leave a note on the top of each stack with their names on it and I'll see that they get them."

"Thanks Lisa. I really appreciate this."

"Not a problem Lt. Davis. We're all trying to adjust to what happened and keep the workflow going." She took a few steps backward, stared at him questioningly and then turned to leave.

Carl waited until she was gone and then slid Beth's folder back to the middle of the desk. He knew that he was going to keep the folder, personal nature of the contents not with standing.

It could be that Lindsey thought there might be something going on between Mick and Beth but his notes weren't what Carl would have expected to see from someone checking up on their girlfriend's possible affair with another man. They raised questions that Carl would like answers to.

He'd just tie up the loose ends himself and call it his final gift to a friend.


	5. Breaking the Ice

**The usual disclaimer that breaks my heart to make. None of it is mine.**

**This is a little traveling chapter. Gotta get from point A to point B! And you know how Beth loves to ask questions!**

Days of Wine and Roses-Chapter 5-Breaking the Ice

"Oh, you have the top and windows down!" Beth exclaimed as they left her apartment building and approached the Benz. It sat snug to the curb looking out of place compared to the newer models parked on the street. 

Mick held the door open for her as she got into the car. "Yeah, I couldn't resist the morning sun." He closed the door and stood beside it assessing what she was wearing. _Jeans, t-shirt and a light zippered sweatshirt. How can she look so good in such basic clothes? _

"What?" she said smiling up at him. He appeared slightly nervous but it was quickly replaced by his lopsided grin.

He glanced toward the rear deck of the car. "It's still cool this morning. Will you be warm enough? I can put it back up."

"I'll be fine." she answered. "Leave it down." She settled down in the seat and looked up at him. His hands were still on the top of the closed door and he was gazing down at her. 

He shook his head to clear it, reached into his pocket and brought out his keys. As he walked around the front of the car he swung them around on the tip of his index finger and whistled some non-descript little tune. 

She noticed he was still favoring his left leg and wondered who he'd fought with and why. That was a story she intended to find out about. But right now she just wanted to enjoy the morning and try to forget for awhile about the last few days. She was ready to dispel the gloom she'd been surrounding herself with.

They pulled out into traffic and she began to feel more relaxed. The breeze was cool but not uncomfortable at this speed and the car purred steadily as Mick accelerated. She breathed in the fresh air, closed her eyes and leaned her head on the back of the seat so that she could feel the sun on her face. It was nice just to enjoy being alive. She didn't have to be responsible for anything or anyone today. 

She pushed her hair behind her ear and turned to look at him. He was concentrating on the traffic ahead of them and was now humming softly instead of whistling. His right hand was draped casually over the top of the steering wheel while his left was tapping a rhythm on the outside mirror. 

He always drove the Benz and she wondered if he had another vehicle. She tried to picture him in a newer model car but couldn't. The vintage car fit Mick to a 'T'. She stretched her legs out and noticed how much room remained between her feet and the front of the passenger compartment. She liked the roomy comfort it offered and thought he probably did too considering his longer legs.

"So did you buy the Benz new?" she asked unexpectedly.

He chuckled but kept his eyes on the traffic. "Ahhhh, no. When this car was new I was still with Coraline and barely had two nickels to rub together much less enough money to buy a car like this. Actually I won it in a poker game about ten years ago."

"Who were you playing poker with that would have wagered a car?" she asked. But before she'd finished asking the question she knew. "Not Josef?" she asked, sitting up and leaning toward him.

Mick laughed and nodded his head. "None other."

"He must have hated to lose it." She rubbed her hand over the leather seat and looked at the dashboard, appreciating the style and class of the car.

"No. Josef never bets what he doesn't mind losing. What he hated to lose was the game. That really pissed him off." He smiled remembering the disbelief on Josef's face as he laid down his straight flush. Which was exactly one card higher than Josef's. The two other vamps at the table had roared with delight and slapped Mick on the back for his good fortune. Josef had growled.

"If Josef bet the Benz, what did you bet?" she asked.

They had stopped at a light and Mick turned to look at her. "Six months of feeding fresh from the tap."

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed. She was surprised by his terminology. There was obviously a glossary of vampire colloquialisms she should acquaint herself with. "Would he have held you to it if you'd lost?"

"Oh yeah. Josef has been trying to get me to give up packaged meals for years. He would have had me living at his place for the next six months just to be sure I didn't renege."

"I gather Josef doesn't normally utilize the local blood bank?" she asked crinkling her nose.

"Not unless he drinks at my place. He might complain but he never turns it down." 

"But what made you bet drinking 'fresh from the tap'"? The words make her shiver as she spoke them. She recalled vividly finding Mick in the desert motel and the euphoric yet chilling feeling she'd experienced while he fed at her arm. 

"I didn't to start with." he replied. "I had about a thousand dollars in the pot, he bet the Benz and I couldn't come up with the cash to offset the wager. He was the one who suggested the way I could call his bid. However, I did talk him down to 6 months from the two years he originally wanted."

"And you ended up driving away in the Benz." she said, nodding with an understanding smile. 

"Yep! And several thousand dollars worth of repairs that needed to be made. But it was worth it. I like the car. The fact that he still fumes about it when he sees me driving it is just like twisting the stake a little." He smirked, made a fist of his driving hand and turned it toward himself slightly. 

"That sounds a little too realistic after what I've learned about stakes." She rubbed the back of her fingers against her chest remembering how she'd had to pull with all her strength to remove the stake from Mick's chest when they were trying to find the rogue vampire months earlier. She grimaced thinking about the sucking sound it had made when it finally came out. Which made her hunch her shoulders and shiver again. 

He noticed and, thinking she was cold from the breeze, turned the heater on high. "We'll be there in just a few minutes." he said. 

"So, where are we headed?" she asked. They were in an area of mini-malls, restaurants and Do-It-Yourself hardware stores. 

"I'm going to buy a bed." he declared.

She raised her head and slowly turned to look at him. "A bed? You mean like…for a guest?" she asked.

"No, I mean like…for me. I've slept on the couch the last two nights and I don't intend to spend the rest of my time as a human with a sore back."

"Umm…can't you sleep wherever you usually do?"

He glanced over at her and then back to the road as he rounded a corner. _This is good. She's fishing for information. Her reporter instinct is kicking in again._

"And where do you think I usually sleep?" he asked. He suppressed the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

She shrugged her shoulders and tried to look nonchalantly at the buildings they were driving by. "Where vampires normally do I guess." Mick hadn't volunteered a lot of information regarding the daily habits of vampires. Most of what she knew about them she'd learned from the seat of a movie theater. She fleetingly envisioned him lying in a casket with his arms crossed over his chest. While she found it completely absurd, and a little disturbing so soon after Josh's funeral, she couldn't seem to get past the mental image. 

She thought back to the times she'd been in his apartment. She'd snooped a little when she'd had the chance. OK, maybe more than a little. But she didn't remember seeing his bedroom. There was an empty room upstairs that looked like he used mostly for storage. And then there was 'The Gray Door'. Apparently it led to his private suite because he'd specifically asked her not to go through it. Of course his request that she stay out of his office hadn't stopped her from going in there. And what a treasure trove of information that had turned out to be. What could 'The Gray Door' be hiding?

He looked at her more directly now that he was driving straight. "You think I sleep in a coffin don't you?" he asked, breaking into her reverie. 

"No I don't!" She responded too quickly. _Damn! How does he do that? How can he know what I'm thinking? _ "I just didn't think you slept on the couch. I…well…I…" she stammered.

He laughed and turned his eyes back to the road. The more he thought about it the louder he laughed. "You do so!" Mick was hooting over the idea now. 

"Well, how am I supposed to know? You've disproved everything I ever knew about vampires. Garlic doesn't bother you, you can be in the sun, stakes in the heart don't kill you." She was trying to be serious but his laugh was infectious and she started to giggle. "You don't even fly!" she said, raising her hand to glide it above the windshield. 

They could feel the light banter breaking down the emotional ice that had formed between them over the last week. and they began to relax with each other again.

"So where do you sleep? Obviously not in a bed since that's what you're going to buy today." She loved the questions and answers game. It was like a hunt and she always enjoyed coming home with her catch.

He pulled into the parking lot of a local furniture store and slipped the car into a space well away from the few cars already there. Shifting it into park he turned off the car and turned to face her, still grinning with amusement.

"I thought you would have worked some of that reporter magic of yours and done some research on the subject." He wiggled his fingers like he was casting a spell and looked at her innocently.

"I did. I have been. I just haven't gotten to the part about where you sleep yet."

"And you didn't find anything at my place?" He cocked his head to one side and gave her a direct look that caused her face to turn crimson. 

_Uh oh… her catch had turned on her._ She tried to return the innocent look but broke their eye contact first to look down and examine her fingernails. _He probably would have smelled everywhere I'd been in his apartment with that super-sniffer of his_. "Well, you told me not to go certain places while I was there."

Mick snorted as he reached for the door handle and grinned even wider. "Yeah, that really worked well, didn't it?"

He got out of the car and walked around it to open her door. He was still chuckling as she stood up beside him. "So, are you going to tell me?" she inquired.

"I'll go you one better." He walked beside her as they headed toward the store. "I'll show you." He raised his hand and pointed his finger at her to ward off the 'when?' he knew was coming. "Later." he said. 

"Really?" she asked. Her blue eyes were wide with interest.

"Really." he answered. "Now let's just get the bed bought so they can deliver it today. Otherwise where I usually sleep might end up looking like a better alternative than where I've spent the last two nights."


	6. Running Errands

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine. All theirs. Makes me sad. They don't really care.**

**Thanks for all the reviews. It's great to hear back from readers. Thanks again to my Beta-NeteleJala and to whoever is giving me the right words while I sleep. I hope they keep coming back.**

**Speaking of sleeping...**

Chapter 6-Running Errands

The car pulled into a parking space in an adjoining lot as Beth and Mick talked their way to the storefront. It was old enough to need some body work done but not expensive enough to warrant spending the money. In a year or two it would probably be in a junk yard. But Max Stang didn't care. It was a car that people didn't notice. It made investigations a lot easier if you could blend with the crowd.

A furniture store wasn't the usual place the people he tailed went to, but he'd had stranger ones. You got to see the hidden sides of people when you were paid to follow them. St. John was the one he was watching but the addition of Lindsey's woman had definitely made things more interesting.

He took out a cheap digital camera and snapped a couple of shots of them as they walked together through the doors of the store. They were close enough to talk to each other but were not touching. There was nothing in their actions that could have been construed as more than friendly. 'Courteous' since he had opened both the car door and the door to the store for her. 'Expected' since she had waited until he had performed said courtesies instead of doing them herself. Comfortable with each other was the conclusion you would make from watching them.

And watching them gave him great satisfaction. He'd lost more than one potential client to St. John. It would be nice to unearth some dirt on the cocky son-of-a-bitch and take him down a notch or two. Just because his offices were a little more upscale than his own and he drove an expensive car made people think that they were dealing with a hotshot PI.

Well he had news for them all. As soon as he got a few financial dealings cleared up he'd be moving up the ladder too. No more grimy office where he slept in the back room and dealt with clients over a battered desk while drug deals went down on the sidewalk outside.

Lindsey had helped him clear up a little legal problem he'd been involved with and had even let him keep his license. So he owed him. But this was going to clear the slate between them. He was going to keep his nose clean and stay out of trouble. He didn't want to owe any more favors to the police. It was entirely too costly. They always came back with their hands out.

He picked up the GPS unit from the floor on the passenger side. In addition to canceling out the favor, Lindsey had paid him 1000.00 for the job with the understanding that a GPS would be used on St. John's precious Benz. Five hundred when he took the job and the rest when he turned over the information to Lindsey. Of course his talents were worth much more than that but at the moment the five hundred kept a roof over his head and gas in the car.

A few nights ago he'd been snooping around St. John's building trying to find an easy way to get to the car when he'd heard voices and the sounds of a fight from the alley a couple of blocks up. He'd circled around the building and saw St. John lying on the ground. He thought for sure he was dead and was just beginning to think of checking out the body when he noticed some movement. St. John pulled himself to his knees and crawled to a car to help bring himself upright. Someone had beat the hell out of him. The guy could barely stand but managed to make it back to his building by lurching from walls and trash bins in the alley. His leg gave out once and he dropped to the ground holding his ribs and spitting blood.

Max thought only once about helping St. John. But he brushed it away as quickly as it appeared. First, he didn't like the guy and second, if he helped it would have given St. John a good look at him. He had still wanted his anonymity. You never knew when being unknown would come in handy.

He was able to get some clean shots with his digital though. He laughed roughly thinking about how it was too bad he hadn't arrived sooner to see the show. But watching St. John crawl in the filth of the alley almost made up for it.

Since that night he hadn't had an opportunity to attach the GPS unit to the car but this could be the chance he'd been waiting for.

He put the GPS in his jacket pocket and got out of his car. Stepping over the grassy median he walked casually into the other lot. He'd skirt the perimeter and come at the Benz from the other side. _God, I'm so good at this! Too bad clients go for all the eyewash instead of seeing what it really takes to do PI work._

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

"Good Morning." An attractive brunette approached them as they entered the store and smiled a welcome. Mick saw her eyes flit over his face, linger on his bruised eye and then turn to Beth. "Anything I can help you find today?" she asked.

Beth looked over at Mick, widened her eyes and nudged her head forward toward the woman, inviting him to start the process.

"Um…yeah. I'd like to buy a bed." He declared as he shoved his keys into his pocket.

"Sure. We have several on display." She turned and beckoned them to follow her deeper into the store. "Are you interested in just the bed or an entire set?" she asked.

"Just the bed." Mick replied at the same time Beth was saying "The set."

Beth gave Mick a sugary smile as they entered a gallery of rooms displaying several different styles of bedroom sets. "You'll need the whole set." she said. "For when guests come. You know…to spend the night?" She raised her eyebrows and watched his reaction for just a moment before she turned to look at the saleswoman again.

Mick looked at her incredulously. _Guests? The only overnight guest he'd had in years had been her. Was she suggesting…_

"Are you interested in a Queen or King size?" the clerk questioned.

Mick opened his mouth to reply but then stopped and turned to Beth to see if she intended to participate in this decision as well.

"King." Beth answered

_Am I even here?_ Mick wondered.

"Any preference in the type of mattress?" the clerk asked, wondering which one would respond first.

"Preference?" Mick asked as he gazed around at the surprising number of bed sets they had available. He was still contemplating Beth's suggestion of having a guest spend the night. The likelihood of that was slim unless she meant…

"Yes." she said giving Mick her full attention. "Soft? Medium? Firm? Pillowtop?"

He hadn't considered so many possibilities. He had thought he'd walk into the store, point at a bed, buy it and have it delivered. End of the story and his nightly torment on the couch. How did this suddenly become so complicated?

"I…I don't know." He stammered.

"Well, what are you sleeping on now?" the salesclerk asked helpfully.

Beth stared at him with falsely innocent eyes that begged him to go ahead and tell the nice saleslady where he slept.

He looked again at the options before him and sighed. "Firm," he said finally. Then nodding more definitively he gave the two women a tightlipped smile. "Definitely firm."

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

The rest of the decisions were made relatively quickly. Mick had lain on only one mattress and proclaimed it to be perfect in spite of Beth's encouragement to try several others. The set he'd chosen was a modern style in black and without a foot board. The matching pieces had silver accents and drawer pulls. A decidedly masculine set.

Beth left him with the sales woman to haggle over the delivery time and went wandering through the store. It was fun to dream over all the furniture she saw. Maybe she would replace her sofa. She turned over the price tag on one that she thought might suit her and then dropped it like she'd been burned. Obviously her sofa didn't need to be replaced as badly as she thought.

She had worked her way back to the front window of the store and was waiting for Mick when she saw a man standing by the Benz. It was a great looking car. She imagined it received a lot of admiring glances from people. She watched as he walked along the far side of the car and paused to look inside at the interior.

"Hey," Mick called to her. She turned to watch him walking up the main aisle of the store folding the receipt for his purchase.

"All done?" she asked.

"Yeah. They'll be delivering it this afternoon around 5:00. The last run of the day." He pulled out his wallet, tucked the folded receipt inside and then replaced it in his pocket. "Customer satisfaction guaranteed…for a nominal fee," he quipped.

"So without your vamp appeal you had to use bribery?" she laughed.

"Bribery is so harsh. I prefer to call it a tip for exceptional service," he retorted with a grin. "Although had it been much more money it might have bordered on extortion."

She opened her mouth to ask how much but he shook his head. "Don't ask. It's worth every penny. Are you ready to go?"

She looked back through the front window and no longer saw the man by the car.

"Sure. Where are we going next?" she asked.

Mick opened the door for her and they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"There's a place where Coraline had set up a lab to work on the compound. I don't imagine she left much of anything behind, but I want to take a look around anyway."

"Compound?" she questioned.

"The substance that she used to become human again. She'd been running tests on it to try to make more and to try to figure out how to make the results permanent. It's what she gave to me the night she came to my apartment," he said as they walked back across the parking lot to the car.

"Did she leave any with you?" Beth asked excitedly.

"No. She only used what was necessary to make the change. She had a small amount with her and said there was some more that was hidden somewhere. All I have is a sample of my blood that I took when I got back home that night. And it might not be any more useful than her blood was in discovering the secret of the compound."

He held the door for her as she got in the car. Walking around the front of the Benz he slid into the driver's seat and started it up.

"Mick? Why did Coraline want to be human again? Why did she give you what she knew you wanted so badly? It seems so out of character for her," she said curling her lip.

He looked into the distance and then concentrated his gaze at the steering wheel. "I don't know for sure, Beth. Coraline has motives I've never been able to understand. Knowing how I feel about what she did to me," he paused thoughtfully. "Maybe she thought I'd be more willing to help her if she gave me a taste of humanity. But whatever agenda she might have I do know one thing." He turned to look soberly at her. "Whether human or vampire we all need reasons to go on living. It's just that vampires have a lot more time to fill. Finding a permanent cure for vampirism is her current obsession. And it's a dangerous one. But if there is any possible way of continuing the research I intend on pursuing it."

"I know." She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. He looked down at the touch and then into her eyes. They were filled with an understanding he knew she didn't have. She had barely scratched the surface of his existence.

He gave her a rueful smile as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Let's check out the lab and then we'll go get a bite to eat. You get to choose the place."

"Deal," she said and then wondered what he might like to eat…besides sugared pastries.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Max sat in his car smoking a cigarette and watched as the couple pulled out into traffic. He looked over at the tracking control sitting on the seat beside him. A nice steady little blip was blinking their position. He could relax a bit now that he didn't have to be riding their tail and risk them seeing him. He had just padded his comfort zone with the GPS.

He took one last draw, mashed the butt of the cigarette against the outside of the car door and tossed it on the pavement. Attaching the device to the Benz had been a cinch. Too bad about the damage to the paint job though. His key had stuck out at just the wrong angle and made such a nasty gouge. He laughed out loud and smacked the steering wheel with one hand. Damn, that had felt good. He looked at his car key and flicked a few bits of paint from the notches with his fingernail. He sure hoped he was around and had his camera out when St. John finally saw the scar across his trunk.


	7. Wine and Tofu

**I don't own Moonlight.**

**Patience is a virtue so all who might have been waiting for this chapter deserve an extra glass of A-neg! After all...we've all got to eat. Right? Or maybe not.**

Days of Wine and Roses-Chapter 7-Wine and Tofu

The visit to the lab was about what Mick thought it would be. Futile. But it had to be done. He didn't want to ignore any possible leads about the work Coraline had been doing on the compound.

It took less than 20 minutes for the two of them to work their way through what was left. The lab was in a shambles. There were a few work tables and chairs left. Bits and pieces of leaves littered the floor in one area. He suspected they were what was left of the plants that had been used to try to recreate the compound but they crumbled in his fingers when he tried to pick them up.

Beth had discovered an exam table with several wooden stakes scattered on the floor beneath it. She was horrified when he told her Coraline had probably been creating her own rogues on which to test the compound and had expounded on how vile such experiments were. He didn't understand why she thought draining a human of enough of their blood to kill them while feeding was more acceptable than creating a vampire and then trying to cure them of the curse by experimenting on them. The human was still just as dead if the cure didn't work.

But maybe he'd been a vampire for too long. The lines between acceptable and unacceptable were blurred in comparing human and vampire morals. He knew he certainly wasn't about to tell her how the rogues were disposed of after Coraline was finished with them. That would set off a new tirade he wasn't prepared to listen to at the moment. Beth was still very much an innocent when it came to knowing how a vampire lived. Better to provide such knowledge gradually instead of in bursts of bloody gore.

He sighed and leaned on one of the tables to take the weight off of his leg. It was starting to throb again and he knew another handful of ibuprofen was in his near future. "We're done here, Beth. There's nothing left that will be of any help. They've taken everything of importance." His eyes drifted over the debris of the lab.

"But where did she go with it? Why leave?" she asked. She had picked up one of the stakes and gestured around the lab with it.

"She didn't leave of her own accord. She was taken." He drew one corner of his mouth in and thought of the look on Coraline's face as Lance had driven the stake into her chest and lifted her to the rooftops. Fear. He had never seen her look afraid in all the years he had known her. Even when he had thought he'd murdered her he hadn't seen fear cross her features. Surprise and outrage. But never fear. _Where would Lance take her that would cause her to be so terrified?_

"Who took her? You know you haven't told me what happened that night after I left your apartment. You obviously got into a fight but I thought it was with her. So there was someone else? Did you fight with them?" She rapid fired the questions at him. The more questions she asked the more she had. One led to another so quickly and she needed answers to them all.

Mick's head was starting to pound from the bombardment she was throwing at him. He closed his eyes and frowned rubbing his forehead with his fingers. He hadn't had a headache since...hmmm…he couldn't remember for sure. But the dim memory of it was becoming clearer. The pain in his head was pulsing with the beat of his heart.

He lifted his hand from his head without opening his eyes and held it up in a 'stop' gesture to Beth. "How about I field your questions over lunch?"

Beth turned to him and noticed the tight expression on his face. He looked tired. She approached him still holding the wooden weapon in her hands.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"No," he said flatly without looking up. "My leg hurts, I have a headache and I'm hungry." He suddenly felt very out of sorts and reached for the pill bottle in his pocket.

She stood just a few inches from him and held the stake up between them.

"Aches and pains. Just another small service brought to you by… humanity," she said with a smirk.

He leveled a surprised stare at her then suddenly saw the humor of the moment. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled.

"Yeeaah," he drawled out. "I guess I deserved that."

"Yes. You. Did." She tapped the business end of the stake to his chest to emphasize each word. He huffed with amusement, took the weapon from her hand and tossed it across the room.

"Are these working for you?" she asked as she reached for the bottle in his hand to read the label.

"Yeah. They've just worn off." He reached out and took them back, rattling the remaining pills in the plastic container.

"Let's go have lunch then. I'm getting hungry too and it'll be better if you take these with a little food rather than on an empty stomach." She took one last look over the remnants of the lab.

"Yes. A frosted pastry does not a breakfast make." He joked and started walking toward the door. "Have you picked the place we're going?"

"I don't know what you like," she answered.

"Well, that makes two of us. But just between you and me," he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I haven't found anything yet that I haven't liked."

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

"What did you say this is again?" he asked suspiciously as he used his fork to break apart the small balls of food on his plate. He slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and looked at Beth over the rims.

They were seated at a patio table in the outside garden area of a little restaurant. While the warmth and soft breeze blowing through the potted fig and palm trees were pleasant, the sun was glaring. He'd folded to Beth's insistence that he wear a cap and sunglasses to avoid being burned but resented the intrusion into his new found freedom of daylight. He found it amusing that she was concerned for him now when just a few days ago this much direct sunlight would have sent him into a heavy feeding and a couple of days in his freezer for recuperation. Still, it was nice to have her be attentive.

"They're called Chickpea Balls with Coconut Curry Sauce. Steve, my cameraman, got me hooked on them. This is the only place I've found that serves them." She rolled one of the balls around her plate to soak up more of the sauce and then popped it in her mouth. Closing her eyes she chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor before swallowing. "Mmmmmm," she moaned with delight.

Mick watched her intently and then looked back to his own plate with a great deal less enthusiasm than she seemed to be experiencing. He leaned closer to the plate and drew in a deep whiff of the dish. Wrinkling his nose he reached for the glass of wine he'd ordered and took a large drink. He thought there might be a good reason why only one restaurant in LA would serve this entrée. At least they also offered wine. He might need more of it to get through the meal.

Beth finished another mouthful and looked at his untouched plate.

"What? You don't like them?" she said in astonishment.

"Umm…" He took a deep breath. "I don't think so," he announced, shaking his head.

"But you have even tried them," she said as she pointed at his plate with her fork.

"I'm working up to it." He sat back in his chair holding his wine glass in one hand and eyed the food in front of him. Between the pain pills he'd taken when they were first seated and the wine he was now drinking he was starting to feel a bit better. At least the pain was better. He was definitely still hungry though and he didn't see that being remedied right away.

"So I managed to pick the one thing you don't like?" She rolled her eyes and cupped her chin in her hand. "I thought we'd try something you might not have had when you were…" she fumbled for the right word, "young," she finished brightly.

"Beth, I can honestly say you were right. I have never had anything like this before. Ever." He plucked one of the orbs from his plate with his fork and turned it slowly between them. Laughing, he nibbled a bite off of one side and then offered the rest of the morsel to her.

She dropped her head and covered her eyes with her hand while her shoulders shook from laughter. _Of all the stupid places to bring him_. She raised her head and allowed him to feed her the tidbit. At least he seemed to be in better humor now.

He raised his hand to draw the attention of the waitress.

"Do you have anything like a hamburger on your menu?" he asked hopefully.

The girl shook her head. "I'm sorry sir. We're a vegetarian restaurant. We do have a good tofu salad. Or you might like to try our soyburger," she offered apologetically.

"Tofu?" He looked back to Beth for some help in determining what this substance might be.

"It's kind of like vegetable cheese," she said as she forked the last chickpea ball into her mouth.

Mick looked back at the waitress. "Does the tofu come with some kind of bread?" he asked.

She nodded. "Soy-flour rolls. They're very good!"

Beth snorted into her wine glass and started coughing.

"I'll try the tofu salad and soy rolls," Mick said politely. "And another glass of wine please," he added hastily.

"Sure," the waitress responded. She picked up Beth's empty plate and passed back through the tables into the building.

Beth started to chuckle.

"Mick, I am so sorry!" she chortled.

"Yeah, you look all broken up." He grinned back and, out of habit, brought the bill of his cap down a little farther over his forehead.

"Hey," she said. "You're the one sitting in the sun and I'm the one wanting a tan but sitting in the shade. Trade places with me."

He started to object but she cut him off.

"I can see your face turning red as I sit here, Mick. You're not used to the sun. Just trade seats with me."

He agreed and they switched places. It was a lot more comfortable sitting in the shadow of the roof overhang. And he enjoyed watching the light shine in her hair. Hell, he just enjoyed watching her.

"So, you said you'd tell me about the night of the fight." She pointed at his plate with a question on her face and he pushed the plate toward her, glad that she wasn't expecting him to try more.

He leaned forward and put his arms on the table.

"Well, Coraline used some of the compound on me and then we left the apartment. She was trying to get away from the vamp she stole it from but he and his friend confronted us in the alley. It hadn't been more than 15 minutes since I'd absorbed it and I'd already changed. I wasn't much help to her in the fight, I'm afraid." He took another swallow of the wine, remembering how ineffectual he'd been against the much older vampire. When he thought back about it Lance had been remarkably tolerant of him. He wasn't so sure that Josef would have been as magnanimous under the same circumstances.

"Do you know who he was?" she asked.

"In a way. He's my ex brother-in-law. His name is Lance," he said.

"Brother-in-law? Coraline has a vampire brother?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah. Six of them actually. I've only been introduced to Lance. They go back to The Reign of Terror in France, Beth. That's why the compound is so important to them. It let them pass themselves off as being human during a vampire genocide. Coraline said there was a lot more to the French Revolution than is in the history books. The guillotine was designed expressly as a way of killing vampires once they had been detected."

Beth was still mulling over the idea of a family of vampires like Coraline. She felt a chill crawl up her spine in spite of sitting in the sun.

"So is the whole family as twisted as she is?" she sneered.

"If Lance is any indication, Coraline might be the mild mannered one. He seemed especially displeased that she had brought me into the family without their consent. Evidently they're a tightly knit family unit and they consider me to be an ungrateful outsider," he snorted.

"Do you think they'll kill her?" she asked without looking at him. She couldn't hide the kernel of hope she felt at the thought of Coraline being gone permanently but she didn't necessarily want Mick to know it. He and Coraline were bonded by whatever tied vampire husbands and wives together and she didn't want to overstep into territory where she didn't know all the rules.

"There are worse things than dying Beth," he answered quietly.

The waitress brought Mick's salad, rolls and wine at the same time Beth's phone rang. She searched her purse and pulled it out to look at the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Mick asked as he broke one of the rolls apart.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I don't recognize the name." She flipped it open and announced her name.

Two minutes later the conversation had ended and Beth sat quietly with the phone still in her hand, her eyes welling with tears.

"What is it Beth? Who was it?" Concern crossed his face as he reached for her hand. She had said painfully little during the call.

"That was Josh's landlord. He wants to show Josh's apartment and I'm listed as next of kin on the paperwork." Her face threatened to crumple at the explosions of recent memories suddenly filling her mind. "He…he asked when I could move Josh's things out," she said dully.

"What?!" Mick pulled his sunglasses off to frown at her in amazement. He was stunned at the callousness of the call.

"I never thought about his place and all his things. I guess I should have but I didn't realize I'd need to…" her words faded. She reached up to her eyes to wipe away the tears that were threatening to pour down her cheeks at any moment. "Mick, would you take me back home so I can pick up my car and drive over to start taking care of this?"

"I can help, Beth. You don't need to do this alone." His heart was breaking for her.

"No." she said softly. Raising her chin she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "No," she said more firmly. I need to do this myself. I have to finish this for him." She stared into Mick's eyes. "For both of us."

She picked up her purse and walked toward the exit while Mick tossed a bill on the table to pay for their meal.

He caught up with her and they drove silently back to her apartment. He surreptitiously glanced at her during the drive back but she only looked out the windshield or the passenger window. She was obviously avoiding having to look at him.

When they reached her apartment he started to get out of the car but she put her hand on his arm.

"Don't get out Mick. It's alright." She hesitated and darted a glance at him before finally opening the car door.

"Thanks for breakfast…and lunch," she said. He saw her roll her eyes and allow a quick smile to surface. "I'll call you, ok? I've just got to get this taken care of. I don't want it looming over me."

"Mmhmm," he nodded in acknowledgement. He didn't want to leave her but knew that forcing the issue would only cause problems. Better to be available if she needed him than to create a situation where she might shut him out completely.

As she walked up to the building he called out to her.

"Beth! If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know. OK?"

She nodded, gave the briefest of smiles and raised her hand in a wave as she walked through the door.

**a/n: Beth is sad so all of you wave nice to her and leave a little something in her mailbox that tells her you'd like to see her again real soon. She'd love to hear what you thought of her menu choice since Mick would obviously rather starve than eat it!**


	8. Facing the Truth

**Disclaimer: none of it belongs to me**

**A/N-This was a longer chapter that I pared down a bit. It's always feast or famine. Either I can't write what I want or I get on a roll and write too much. Please read and drop me a review. They are all very much appreciated, needed, wanted, desired, well...you get the picture! **

Beth watched him from the window at the end of the hall. After she'd entered the building he'd sat in the car for a couple of minutes occasionally looking at the entrance door. She even saw him reach for the door handle of the car once and caught her breath thinking that he might follow her up to her apartment. But apparently he thought better of it. He patted the heel of his hand against the steering wheel a few times, shook his head and finally pulled out and disappeared down the street into the traffic.

It was easier when he'd finally driven away. She stopped hearing the two conflicting voices in her head. One begging him to follow her in and the other pleading for him to drive away.

She dropped the curtains back into place and walked up the hall to her door. Now that he was gone she could steel herself for what she had to do. Going to Josh's apartment was going to be hell. And that was all the more reason for her to try to get this done quickly.

She had precious little at his place. Most of their sleepovers were spent at her apartment. She had reasoned-and he had conceded-that it was more convenient, due to whatever logistics she was using at the moment. But now she could see it for what it was. She hadn't wanted to step completely into his world. Hadn't wanted to make more of a commitment.

Wasn't that just a riot? She was hesitant to become totally involved in Josh's life and yet she was more than willing to immerse herself in Mick's. When did a chicken dinner with Josh and her friends come to have less appeal to her than being with Mick in the morgue? _When I fell out of love with Josh and in love with Mick_.

The thought caught her off guard. There were so many moments when it could have happened. Singular events that paused time and locked memories in place. The brush of his lips against hers when she kissed him was countered by the memory of the forceful draw of his mouth while he fed from her wrist in the desert. A smile of pleasure; a frown of worry; a feeling of safety; the fear of losing everything. The last few months of knowing him had taken her on a roller coaster ride of emotions. But they all led her back to him…and farther away from Josh.

Waves of sadness washed over her and she leaned her head against the door tiredly.

Josh had recognized what she was feeling months ago. She was the one who had kept lying to herself and to him. Then Josh decided to play his trump. A proposal of marriage. She never thought for a moment he was not sincere about his feelings for her but he knew she was vacillating about their relationship. He had been intending to force her hand. One way or the other. Him or Mick.

She opened her door, walked to her sofa and dropped her purse on the floor beside it. Her lap-top was on the coffee table and she popped it open as she sat down heavily. Pulling the computer onto her lap she leaned back into the cushions and typed in a search for local auction houses.

She would make arrangements for Josh's household items to be picked up after she had a chance to go through his personal things. Her eyes stared through the screen as she envisioned Josh's apartment. Taking a mental walk through the rooms she could also bring forth memories each room held.

The entryway where, after a dinner date, they'd started dropping their clothes in the hurry to get to the bed. They never made it.

The living room, where they'd gotten drunk and played board games on the coffee table one miserably rainy night. Only to play love games on the rug later.

In the kitchen she saw him fixing breakfast after her first overnight stay. She grinned at the thought. He made a better omelet than she ever could.

In the bathroom they had shared the shower and tub in languorous explorations of each other's bodies. Which led, finally, to his bedroom.

She quickly sat up straight and brought her attention back to the task at hand. She didn't want to wallow in these memories right now. She'd have months and years ahead of her to relive each one…if she chose.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Max watched from a block away as the Benz pulled away from the curb minus one blond head. He'd tracked them through lunch and even got a few mundane photos of them in the restaurant before that phone call Lindsey's woman took seemed to end the festivities.

He took another draw on his cigarette and watched the blip on the GPS move farther away. But still he didn't start the car to follow. The blonde reporter held his interest. It wouldn't be a bad idea just to check on her. Get the lay of her building. These types of apartment buildings weren't high tech like St. John's place. Just the usual door locks that came open with a twist of a lock pick.

He grinned nastily as he exhaled the smoke and flicked the butt into the street through the open window of the car.

_It would be only professional to follow-up on all the participants in an investigation of this sort. _

He got out of the car and sauntered up the street toward Beth's apartment.


	9. Confidence Building

**A/N Well that last chapter was a bit on the dark side. Let's lighten it up shall we? Do you think Mick is a cat or a dog person? Also, who wants to go in with me to open up a late night drive-thru? **

Chapter 9-Confidence Building

Mick made a run to a burger drive-thru as the first order of business after leaving Beth at her apartment.

He was cataloging his experiences while he was human and was surprised to discover that human hunger was a lot like vampire hunger. Just less intense. He could feel his focus shift to make finding food a priority. He could also smell scents in the air that he hadn't noticed before. All relating to food. Meat on grills and chickens in deep fat fryers.

The big difference was that he could pull up to a drive-up window and order a burger to go. He would be a long time in finding such a window offering a nice A positive beverage in small, medium and large cups. _Oh, and could I have that supersized?_

To be fair there was more to a vampire feeding than taking in nourishment. The hunt was an inherent drive for a vampire. Select, pursue and overpower. The more the victim ran and fought the more compelling the hunt was, and the more thrilling the kill. It imparted to the predator a consummation of the life cycle. The very essence of the prey being devoured as much as the rich ambrosial red liquid flowing from their veins. Even Josef, with his harem of willing young volunteers, would run a hunt just for the pure satisfaction it brought.

Mick hadn't allowed himself that concession for years. Consequently when he gave up control to the beast the results were fearsome. Tejada was a perfect example. Dying had been the easy part for him. Mick had fed off of his fear for much longer than it took him to feed off of his blood.

Taking the sack of food from the girl in the window he thought how he wanted to sit down to a real meal. Everything he had eaten so far had come in a take out bag.

He remembered distinctly the last meal he eaten on his wedding day. They had ordered room service. He'd had a medium rare bacon wrapped filet mignon, baked potato with sour cream and real butter, a salad-which he didn't eat-and cheese cake- which he did. If Coraline hadn't turned him he probably would have had a heart attack by the time he was 50 by eating like that.

Coraline had shared the wine but didn't touch her steak tartar. She had said she was too nervous and excited. _Yeah, but for different reasons than I thought._

He drove to a nearby park and pulled up to the picnic area. He selected a partially shaded table, sat down facing the children's play area and spread his much delayed lunch out in front of him.

His eyes roamed over the children, watching them run and play. Giggles and screams of laughter erupted from all parts of the playground equipment as they swooped back and forth in swings and climbed across all manner of bars and planks to get from one part to the other. As he ate, he contemplated what his own children might have been like.

He'd always liked kids and had a way with them that put them at ease. After Coraline had turned him he had stayed away from children. Afraid that he would endanger them or that they would be able to sense what he was and would be terrified of him without knowing why.

He had always thought that Coraline's perverted attempt to create a family for him by stealing Beth was a response to a particularly nasty, and brutal, argument they'd had one night. He had managed to stay away from her for almost a year before being drawn back by a natural instinct to bond with his mate and sire. Disgusted with himself for not having the fortitude to resist returning to her he reacted poorly to her request for him to stay with her permanently-again.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

_The Party House-1983_

"_We're a family Mick. You and me," she said silkily as she stroked his hair and nuzzled into his shoulder. _

_He bounded off of the bed grabbing what clothes of his were within reach and started to dress._

"_No Coraline. We're not a family. We're infected with each other," he spat at her. "A family is everything we're not and never will be." He stood at the end of the bed zipping his jeans and then turned to face her with his shirt in his fist. _

"_A family is a home not a house!" He gestured angrily around the bedroom that was the master suite of what he called her 'party house'. "It's supportive and constructive. It's wanting what's best for the others in spite of what you want for yourself!" He glared accusingly at her as his voice rose in volume. "It's Saturday barbecues and church on Sundays and…and kids!"_

_He was almost as shocked as she was at his diatribe. He threw the shirt against the wall and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "It's everything that can never be," he said bitterly, letting his arms drop limply to his sides._

"_Wow Mick. I didn't realize what a domestic streak you had," she said mockingly. She was off the bed in an instant and had her arms wrapped around him purring into his chest and breathing in his scent. She had always found his little fits of anger to be stimulating._

_He shoved her off of him, her nails leaving deep tears in his shoulders which oozed red before quickly healing. However, the smell of blood in the air awakened more powerful sensations in both of them and they were soon brawling across the room in alternate attempts to mate and maim each other._

_But Mick had had enough. Coraline had always been the stronger, fiercer one of them. Not only was she his sire but she had several hundred years on him. But this time his anger had bolstered him and elevated his strength and determination to her level. He picked her up and threw her across the room against the wall. The house shuddered. He knew from the angles in her limbs he'd succeeded in breaking quite a few bones._

_When she didn't rise immediately concern bubbled to the surface and pushed his aggression aside. The fear of losing her was stronger than his desire to destroy the hold she had over him. He took a tentative step toward her but stopped when he saw a smile spread over her face._

"_You always come back though, don't you Mick? You can't help yourself." Then she had laughed, and he had fled-again. But this time he didn't return._

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Present Day-Los Angeles

He dropped the last bite of his burger back in the wrapper and dug in the sack for napkins. Wiping his mouth and fingers he looked up into the trees overhead. The sun winking at him through the gently moving leaves.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Warmth worked its way through his body and he relaxed into it. He tried to distinguish the smells in the park. Just a week ago there would have been hundreds. Now there were only a few but they were much more satisfying.

Freshly mown grass, the cedar mulch spread in the garden beds, a fresh scent of some kind of flower that he couldn't quite place.

Giving in to a sun-induced drowsiness he bought his legs up, laid back on the bench seat and folded his arm under his head.

His stomach was pleasantly full and the sounds of birdcalls and children playing were receding into the background as he closed his eyes. His mind wandered as he thought about the day until it latched on to Beth's image.

She wanted to take care of Josh's affairs herself which made sense. They'd been together for over a year. The man had wanted to marry her for God's sake. But now she had to go about the business of closure. She owed that to Josh, and had said so. She had said that she owed it to both of them.

However, she was looking directly at him when she said it. Could it be that she was referring not to Josh, but to him? The corner of his mouth quirked up briefly before settling into a gentle smile.

He allowed himself to think of the times she had kissed him. He had accepted her advances and had enjoyed each one but had yet to respond in kind. Perhaps that needed to be remedied. Flowers, wine, dinner, a kiss that he initiated. Was that how people dated now? Or was a dinner date passé? He had no way to judge and it might be a moot point if she refused. He was way out of touch regarding the dating scene. Did they even call it a scene anymore?

In the midst of drowsy considerations of his dating technique inadequacies he felt the warmth and light of the sun being blocked. Opening his eyes he faced the snout of a huge dog, which promptly licked him from his chin to just below his eye.

With a grunt of surprise he raised his head and brought his hands up to cup under the dog's jowls all the while trying to right himself on the bench. But it wasn't happening. The dog sat down and lowered it's massive head onto his chest with it's tongue lolling out to one side and drool soaking into his shirt.

"Sebastian!" Mick heard a woman's stern voice before he saw her approach. He finally managed to right himself and wiped at his face with one hand while scratching the dog's ears with the other. It was the most enormous dog he'd ever seen and he wasn't keen to agitate it.

He'd always had a dog when he was growing up and loved them. But animals did not get along well with vampires. He hadn't handled one since before he was turned. All the animals he'd encountered since then were either wary of him or downright aggressive. He grinned broadly now using both hands to rub the dog's face and ears. The animal seemed to like him.

"I am so sorry!" she said breathlessly. She reached for the leash that had drug on the ground beside the animal. "He got away from me and made a beeline for the other side of the park. Are you OK?"

Mick looked up at her then back at the dog standing between his legs with it's head on his lap. Mick kept scratching it's ears. Better to be safe and keep the animal happy than risk mutilation in front of a park full of people.

"Yeah. Just surprised," he answered. "He's huge! What kind of dog is he?" He placed his hands gently on either side of the dog's head and lifted it so he could look at it's face. His hands were easily a foot apart and the dog appeared to outweigh him by at least ten pounds.

"He's an English Mastiff. He's usually a bit reserved but he's really taken to you. Do you have dogs?" She looked Mick over appraisingly. _Nice looking, well dressed. A little on the pale side but maybe he works inside a lot._

"Ahh no. No I don't. I used to. But not for a long time." He glanced up at her and noticed her looking him over. He felt the heat of a blush rising in his face and grinned in embarrassment.

"Do you come to the park often to sleep on the benches?" she asked with a grin. She pulled back on the leash and brought the dog out from between Mick's legs. "Sit," she said to the dog. He obeyed but leaned against her leg causing her stagger sideways for a step before he slid down the rest of the way to lie stretched out on the ground.

"Actually, I came to have lunch." He motioned to the remnants of his meal left on the table. "Maybe that's why Sebastian was interested in coming over."

Sebastian lifted his head upon hearing his name and Mick gestured at the last bite of his sandwich. "Can he have a treat?" he asked her.

"Sure," she said. She appreciated him asking. _So he was polite too. No ring on his finger. Maybe he was gay._

Mick tossed the rest of his sandwich to the dog and it was instantly gone. He didn't even see the dog swallow.

"I'm Anne by the way." She extended her hand to him. "I walk Sebastian here everyday but I haven't seen you around before."

"I'm Mick." He shook her hand and smiled feeling the heat reach his ears. _I haven't blushed since high school! What's going on?_

"Mick…like short for Michael?" _He had the most interesting eyes. And then there was that little half grin that she'd seen twice now._

"Yeah, sometimes." _Sometimes? When was the last time anyone had called him Michael?_ He noticed suddenly that he was still holding her hand. Or was she holding his? He pulled away self-consciously but then didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

She was a tall attractive woman. Her auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wasn't wearing much make-up. His paleness was a decided contrast to her dark tan.

"No, I live on the other side of town. I was here for lunch with a friend but she had to leave unexpectedly. The park looked like a nice place to eat and enjoy the afternoon." _Am I rambling? I think I'm rambling_. But he kept on smiling just the same.

A beeping sound came from her watch. She looked down and grimaced as she shut the alarm off. "I've got an appointment I've got to get to," she said apologetically. She stepped back and nodded her head at him. "It was nice to meet you…Mick. If you're ever back in the neighborhood remember I walk Sebastian here every day at about this same time."

"I will. Nice to meet you too…Anne." The dog pulled her away toward the sidewalk at the edge of the park. She glanced over her shoulder to catch him watching her and gave him a brilliant smile and a wave. _So maybe he's not gay._

Mick felt the flush rush the rest of the way up his face as he smiled sheepishly and returned her wave.

Taking a deep breath, he puffed out his cheeks to release it and ran his hand through his hair. The half-grin the woman had found so attractive crossed his features again. Evidently he still held some attraction for the opposite sex even without his vamp appeal so maybe he could get through this awkward stage with Beth. His confidence was certainly buoyed by Anne's obvious attraction to him even though he might have bungled the presentation a little.

He stuffed his lunch wrappers into the sack and walked back toward the parking lot. Taking a last sip from the soda he dropped it all in a trash bin and hopped into his car with a light heart.

He looked at his watch. He had time for two more stops before he needed to get back to his place for the delivery of the bed. He had to pick up pillows for the bed and visit the florist just down the street from his building. He wondered if Beth liked roses.

**a/n Roses are great...but reviews are better. How many roses would you like Beth to get? I'll give her 1 for each review! Don't make Mick look like a cheapskate. And don't make me have to help him out! Beth needs a lift. **


	10. Discoveries

Days of Wine and Roses-chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Moonlight is not mine. Go figure!**

**a/n This is not a very bright and cheery chapter so be forewarned! Max is back and showing some of his true colors which are a little on the perverted side. Also, Max hasn't heard that Josh is dead yet. He's not exactly a 'News at 5:00' type of guy and in this story we're still only a couple of days past the funeral. **

**Be aware there is profanity in this chapter. One little F-bomb explosion goes off. **

**BTW…Mick appreciates your help with the roses. They'll be arriving soon!**

**Enjoy and thanks for all your reviews!**

Chapter 10-Discoveries

Twenty minutes after Mick dropped Beth off at her apartment she was in her car heading to Josh's. Three minutes later Max was standing in the center of her living room. He'd been right. The locks on the old apartments were easily picked. She might as well have left the door open for all the good locking it had done.

He figured he had 30 to 40 minutes at the least. You don't drive anywhere in LA in less time than that. And that would be enough. The apartment was small which would give him time to enjoy himself as well as pick up anything interesting to take back to Lindsey. He didn't want to rush. But, now that he knew how accessible the apartment was, he always had the option of returning from time to time. She never had to know. The others hadn't.

The living room held little of interest. Most people don't keep secrets in rooms that are frequented by visitors. He scanned the kitchen and dining room briefly and then headed to the more private areas of Beth's bedroom and bath.

He stood in the doorway and smiled as he surveyed the room. The bed had been hastily made by flipping up the comforter. He pulled it back to look at the place where she lay each night, soft and vulnerable. _I wonder if she sleeps nude. _He stroked the bright yellow bottom sheet slowly with his palm, feeling the dips and hollows in the mattress cover where her body would nestle as she slept.

He reached for her pillow and brought it up to press to his face. The smell of flowers flowed up and into his nostrils. He breathed it in, tightening his grip on the pillow and burying his face in it. Finally, getting his fill of her fragrance, he laid it very gently and carefully back down on the bed where he noticed a long blond hair curled on the sheet. He picked it up and held it to the light streaming in through the windows before curling it around his finger and putting it in his shirt pocket.

On the table beside the bed were framed photos of her and Lindsey stacked to one side of the lamp. It was the unframed photo that caught his attention. The one leaning against the lamp base at an angle. It was of St. John.

It looked like photos he'd seen in the family album his mom kept of people only she remembered. All dead and gone. But it was definitely St. John. He was holding a guitar and was dressed in some kind of nerdy Hawaiian print shirt. Max lifted the photo for a closer look and then flipped it over. _1952?_ _That couldn't be when the photo was taken. St. John couldn't be much over 30. Pretty interesting though that Lindsey's photos were pushed to the side while this one was front and center._

Max laid the photo flat on the table and brought out his digital to take a shot of it. Then he placed it back against the lamp.

He took a sashay through her bathroom and saw the ring right away. A nice stone and setting probably worth a sizable chunk of change. He put it on his little finger to assess it better. It just fit over the tip of his finger. He sighed and pursed his lips in consideration. He could use the money but the ring would be too easily missed. No sense courting disaster by taking it. He'd have to restrict himself to something less noticeable.

This room was the first place he'd seen any sign of a male occupant. A man's shaving items and an extra toothbrush. He would have thought it was Lindsey's but since seeing the photo of St. John…maybe not. It would explain why she and the PI seemed to be spending so much time with each other.

Maybe he could work this so that Lindsey would keep him on to follow the two of them. He could certainly put a spin on it that would make it more interesting for the Assistant DA to pursue.

He wandered back into the bedroom and rummaged through Beth's closet before turning his attention to her dresser. A bottle of perfume, which was probably what he'd smelled on her pillow, sat next to a box of tissues, a paperback novel and a few pieces of cheap jewelry.

The drawers contained the usual socks, scarves and T-shirts with nothing unusual hidden under them.

Then he finally came to what he'd been saving till the last. He grinned widely and drew in his bottom lip in anticipation as he opened her lingerie drawer. He gently touched the panties and bras that filled it. There was an amazing array of silky colors which he found tantalizing. He shifted himself uncomfortably as he took one of the lacy items out of the drawer to examine it more closely. A black pair of panties with a wide band of lace that would only come up to the middle of her hips. They weren't slutty looking but feminine and sleek. They would hug the cheeks of her ass like his hands ached to. The woman had curves to her body that were meant to be explored.

He had to limit himself to one thing to take. Just one. And he'd found it. He ran his tongue over his lips and looked at himself in the mirror above the dresser. He was sweating slightly and wiped the undergarment across his face and neck relishing the coolness of the fabric as it absorbed the moisture.

He turned back to the bed and laid down on it with his head on Beth's pillow and her panties dangling from his hand which he held above his face. This would keep the lonely nights at bay for a long time. He could dream and invent scenarios that would involve the petite little blond for many days and nights before he'd finally need to come back. But, she would never need to know how frequently. This time…this time he'd be more careful. No one would need to get hurt.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Mick left the department store with three king-sized bed pillows. He hadn't looked to see if they were firm, medium or soft. He'd simply taken the largest and softest appearing of the selections making it a quick and painless decision. The way he'd anticipated buying the bed.

Since they wouldn't fit into a bag the clerk had taped a sticker on each one, showing it had been paid for, and he had left with his hand twisted in the plastic coverings they came in.

He managed the small miracle of getting to the car without dropping any of them only by twisting the plastic around his fingers and hoping it wouldn't take too long for the circulation to return to them. Thinking it would be easier to drop them in the trunk of the car he walked around to the back of the Benz while separating his keys.

As he reached to unlock the trunk, he saw it. A deep ragged wound that ran almost from one side of the trunk to the other.

"God damnit!" he yelled as he stared in disbelief at the trunk lid. The pillows unwound from his fingers and dropped to the pavement, temporarily forgotten, as he leaned over the car, closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose to smell…nothing. No scent to tell him who had been in such close proximity to the car. No blood. No sweat. No spit. A big fat fucking nothing. He blew the air back out of his nose in a huff and turned away from the car to check the lot. There was everyone and no one. The lot was full but there wasn't anyone who stood out from the crowd as a potential vandal.

His lips tightened into a thin line and he shook his head. It could have happened anywhere he'd been today. Beth's apartment, the furniture store, the lab.

"Shit!" he said under his breath. He opened the trunk and tossed the pillows into it roughly. Slamming the lid a little harder than normal he looked at the scratch again and rubbed his fingers across it to gauge the damage. It wasn't the cost of the repair that made him mad. He could understand an accident. Maybe even a hit and run. But this was deliberate and malicious. And that was what so royally pissed him off.

_Whoever did this better hope that I never find him._

**a/n Ahhh…Mick is not very happy about this is he? Do you think he ought to find out who did this? Too bad his sniffer is out of order! **


	11. Smoke and Photographs

Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight. If I did we'd at least be getting re-runs!**

**Again, this chapter has some heavy duty profanity in it so forewarned is forearmed!**

Chapter 11-Smoke and Photographs

Max burst through the door to his office on a high he hadn't felt for months. Life was good and was about to get a whole lot better. He could feel it. He could see it happening. He could practically reach out and touch it.

He tossed his keys on his desk and pulled the camera out of his pocket. He turned it on and clicked to the option that let him preview the photos. Given the quality of the camera, they weren't bad shots. Certainly clear enough to show St. John and the blond together…a lot.

He walked around the desk and sat down to hook the little camera up to his computer to download the pictures. The computer slowly acknowledged the commands and began the laborious job. It would take several minutes for each picture at the rate it was working. He sneered at it. _Piece of shit computer. _

If things went the way he was expecting, he'd be able to replace it and the camera. Lindsey couldn't help but see that his girl and the PI needed to be watched and who better to do it than him? The one who was already on the job. The one Lindsey could trust…for the right amount of money.

He whirled his chair around to the back wall and opened the door to the mini-fridge tucked underneath the counter. It revealed two slices of curling pizza wrapped in a napkin and a half-empty 6-pack of beer. He grabbed one of the bottles, twisted the cap off, and tossed it on the counter-top where it danced for a moment before disappearing among numerous bits and pieces of litter. A startled roach scuttled across a discarded burger wrapper where it had been hiding to seek a hole deeper in the debris.

He took a long swallow of the beer then turned back to the computer to check the progress of the download. If you could call it progress. However, he was in much too good a mood to ruin it by dwelling on what would soon be inconsequential.

Running his free hand under the mass of paper, clothes, and styrofoam containers on his desk, he found the remote to the TV, which sat on a battered file cabinet on the opposite wall. Turning it on, he tossed the remote back down into the rubble, took another swallow of beer and leaned back in the chair so that he could prop his feet up next to the computer.

With the sound of the TV as background noise he thought about his next move. He wanted to see Lindsey soon. He glanced back at the computer which was making its way through photo number three. _Christ! It's even slower than usual._'

When the photos were ready, and he had a chance to look at them in more detail, he'd call Lindsey and make an appointment to see him. If they met in a restaurant he could probably even wrangle a free meal out of the deal. He'd pick up what Lindsey already owed him and perhaps get a retainer for future services. He grinned, chugged the rest of the beer and left the empty bottle beside the computer.

The man speaking on the television droned on quietly in the background as Max reached for a second beer from the refrigerator.

"…Tejada, a local businessman, may be implicated in the recent shooting death of Assistant District Attorney Joshua Lindsey."

Max's hand stopped in mid-air before it reached the bottle. His body frozen, he jerked his head around to look at the TV screen. Lindsey's smiling face was being shown in a still shot next to a photo of an older Hispanic looking man.

Max turned quickly back to face the TV without even bothering to close the door on the little refrigerator.

"No, no, no, no no…." he kept repeating while his eyes roved desperately over the desk for the remote. Finding it again he stood and aimed it at the set, increasing the volume so that he could better hear the report.

"…murdered Friday. Two suspects are being held. We have Cecily Huston, live downtown. Cecily?"

A pert brunette appeared on the screen holding a microphone. He recognized the building she stood in front of. The same one he'd gone to when Lindsey told him he'd wanted to discuss an arrangement with him.

"Joe, the atmosphere here has been one of disbelief. There are currently two suspects being held, without bail, for the shooting. Mr. Tejada is being sought for questioning regarding conspiracy to commit murder. However, the police are not, at this time, able to locate him. His family and associates have provided no information regarding his whereabouts and are, in fact, asking the police to investigate his disappearance. I was able to speak with Lt. Carl Davis regarding the case."

"NO! NO! NO!" Max screamed. Each syllable was emphasized by beating the remote on the desk. "FUCK!" he yelled at the television. He threw the device across the room where it bounced off the TV screen and broke apart, scattering bits of plastic and batteries on the floor. "Fuck!" he said again breathlessly and collapsed back into his chair, numbness flooding through him.

How had he not known about this? How had this happened? He'd been running around the goddamned city tailing people for someone who was fucking dead?

There had to be some way to salvage this.

"…worked with Assistant District Attorney Lindsey for several years. He will be missed. We intend on honoring him by bringing his murderers to justice."

"Thank you Lt. Davis." The woman on the screen turned back to the camera. "As you just heard, the police are using every avenue at their disposal to solve this brutal murder of one of their own, and intend on seeing justice served. This is Cecily Huston, live in downtown Los Angeles. Back to you, Joe."

Max was stunned. His life, that he had been so buoyantly optimistic about just moments before, was heading straight back to the gutter. He needed Lindsey to help him out of the hole he'd fallen in. Lindsey was his much needed cash cow right now, offering just enough money to get things back on the right path.

He still had the photos but suddenly the wealth of information he thought he'd had on St. John took on a more realistic, and meager, appearance. Lindsey had originally hired him to tail St. John. But he had followed the girl out of personal interest and the hope that she might give him something the ADA might pay more for than dirt on the PI. And that was dirt on the girl.

There had to be someone else following up his cases. Someone else who might be interested in what he had to offer. That Lieutenant from the news broadcast. What was his name? Desperately he looked up at the TV again hoping to hear more of the news but the programming had switched to a commercial.

His mind and heartbeat were racing. He laid his hands out flat and hard on the desk in front of him and willed himself to relax and think.

"Davis," Max finally breathed. "His name was Davis."

_I'll approach Davis with the file on St. John. Go down there with it and the photos and offer to continue to help with whatever ongoing investigation Lindsey had started. Tell him I've been paid by Lindsey to investigate St. John. It's all true. Just a few details left out that Davis doesn't need to know._

"Yeah," he said softly, nodding approval at his own decision. He moistened his suddenly dry lips and tapped his thumbs on the desk surface. "Yeah. It could still work." He'd make it work.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Six boxes. That's all it took for Beth to bring back Josh's personal items from his apartment. And one of those boxes held items she had taken to his apartment over the course of the year they had been going together. It was a telling tale that there were so few of her things at Josh's. Even more so that there were fewer of his belongings at her's.

His clothes, linens, towels and kitchen items had all been picked up by the local emergency shelter. He would have liked the fact that they would be used to help people in times of crisis. The big items like furniture and other household goods would be auctioned off and she planned on donating the proceeds to the local police fund.

All in all she felt good about her day's accomplishments. She had been methodical and in control while she focused on the task at hand. She had carefully avoided looking at any photos he'd had of the two of them and had packed them away quickly and efficiently. However, when she unexpectedly found a strip of black and white photos in his lap-top bag she couldn't stop herself from reliving the moment.

They'd been taken at a local mall in one of those photo booths about six months ago. It had been a spur of the moment decision to use it and they had acted so silly behind the curtain. Laughing and giggling like high school kids as they fed their money into the machine. Four poses in a span of a minute.

The first shot had surprised them and they both had their mouths open talking to each other and jockeying for position within the booth. The second showed him pointing at the camera and she had her hand up, fingers covering her lips. The third showed them kissing. She had her hand on his chest and his was cupping her cheek. The last one found her looking down and away from Josh. His hand was still lifted, holding the cheek that was no longer there. His body still leaning in toward hers. Photographic evidence that she had broken away from the kiss…not him.

She shoved the photos back in the case, zipped it up and placed it in a box next to his personal papers and files. She planned to go through everything later when she wasn't so pressed for time. And not so vulnerable to her emotions.

Now that she was home she was exhausted. It was only about 9:30 but she felt it was more like 1:00 in the morning. Her sleep schedule was off since she hadn't been back at work for several days. One a.m. was often in the middle of the day for her when she was on a story.

She opened the refrigerator and stared at the dismal contents. _Right. Mick said we needed to get some groceries. Well, there's always wine. _

She poured a generous glass and took it out to the balcony. It was a lovely evening. Just cool enough to make your skin tingle but with the warmth of the day still left floating in the air. An almost full moon was shining high in the sky and she wondered tiredly if Mick was standing on his rooftop looking at it. The thought of sharing the sight with him over the miles between their apartments made her smile. It felt good. She vowed to do it more often. Hopefully with Mick.

She turned her back on the moonlit night and walked into her apartment, the empty wine glass in her hand. She was bone tired and got no farther than her bed. Setting her glass on the bedside table she stretched out on the bed and luxuriated in feeling the kinks in her back and shoulders give way. Her eyes closed and she drifted off for just a moment before coming awake with a start. She didn't want to fall asleep in her clothes. A quick shower would make it a much more comfortable night.

Before getting up, she turned on her side to look at the photo of Mick that she'd snatched from Coraline's album when she'd been snooping around her loft. She had taken it initially as proof that Morgan was Coraline. But she had kept it because it was of Mick in 1952, before he'd been turned. He looked so much younger in the photo than he did now even though he was still technically the same age. The years showed in his eyes sometimes when she was able to catch him off guard.

She raised her head from the pillow and frowned. She couldn't see the picture. It was too far to the front of the lamp. She knew she had placed it perfectly so that she could see it when she woke in the morning. How had it moved?

She considered the table top and noticed her wine glass. She must have displaced the photo when she set the glass down on the table. _I really drank that wine way too fast. _

She sat up, yawned, and stretched her neck before slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen to drop her glass off in the sink.

Just as she was starting to make her way back to the bathroom, she remembered she hadn't locked up. She groaned and turned again toward the living room to make sure all the locks and chains were in position. There were too many nutcases out there and she had no intention of making it easy for one to break into her apartment.

The warm shower relaxed her even more and, by the time she'd slipped into a soft cotton nightshirt, she knew she would be dead to the world as soon as she hit the bed. _Which is what Mick and Josef are every night…or rather- day. _ She laughed out loud at her cleverness, caught herself, and then snorted again. _I must be more than a little drunk to be thinking up lame one-line vampire jokes and actually laughing at them. By myself no less. _

She finished towel drying her hair, padded back into her bedroom and climbed in between the yellow sheets. Rolling onto her side, she re-adjusted Mick's photo and switched off the lamp. Her hands slid under her pillow and pulled it up to allow her head to nestle in the center. That's when she smelled it. Cigarette smoke. Her pillow smelled like cigarettes.

She sat up and turned the light back on to examine it. How could her pillow smell like cigarettes? She brought it to her face and took another sniff. It was a faint but lingering odor. Any non-smoker could detect the scent. It was as if a smoker had laid down on her bed and pillow.

A little warning bell sounded in the back of her mind. Searching for an explanation she went back over her day. She rolled her eyes as she remembered going to see the ever-so-charming manager of Josh's apartment building to let him know of the time-table she had set up for the pick-up of the furniture. It was obvious as she had stepped through the door that he was a heavy smoker. She'd only been in the room a few minutes and had even had her hair up under a ball cap, but the smoke must have come home with her and been absorbed by her pillow when she laid down on the bed earlier.

She wearily tossed the pillow across the room and dragged the other one to her side of the bed. As she drifted off she wondered distantly if Mick was enjoying his first night in his new bed. She felt a pang of regret at not being with him tonight to break it in properly before sleep overtook her and dropped her into, as yet, unfulfilled dreams.

**A/N Say "Goodnight Beth. Sweet dreams!" then press that little review button. You DO want to know how Mick is sleeping in his new bed don't you? Then show him you care! The button is right over there in the corner!**


	12. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

**Disclaimer: No infringement intended, but hey, accidents happen! **

**A/N- This chapter is why I started writing this story at all. I just wanted Mick to have a bed. I thought I might get 3 or 4 chapters out of the story line. Here it is #12 and he is just getting his bed delivered! Who would have thought it? **

**Many thanks to NeteleJala and Silvanelf for their encouragement right from the start. Otherwise I would not have gotten past chapter 1.**

**Also to NeteleJala for being my primary beta-reader and ErisFury for stepping in on chapter 11 for a back-up beta. All three are wonderful and prolific writers and if you haven't checked out their stories then get a move on and do it. You're depriving yourself of much enjoyment.**

**I've taken a few liberties in this chapter with how I perceive the vampire world. I agree with some other authors I've read lately and don't think vampires have the luxury of dreams. So I ripped that little prize away from them. I do think they have a slow heartbeat and can breathe when they find it appropriate. **

**So, let's help Mick get to sleep. **

**Wish him-Nighty night. And sleep tight.**

**Oh yeah. And don't let the vampires bite. **

Chapter 12-To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Surprisingly enough the two delivery men from the furniture store arrived just shortly after 5:00. They eyed the staircase critically and shared their dismay with Mick that they would have to negotiate so many steps so late in their workday. However, an hour and a half of sweating, swearing and struggling finally found all the furniture in the appropriate room; the deliverymen dispatched with generous tips; leaving Mick alone in the apartment with his new acquisitions.

The room he had always used for storage was transformed by the appearance of a real bed that he was now covering in soft sheets, warm blankets and downy pillows. This was a totally human amenity. A place of comfort made for sleeping and dreaming. And, perhaps, lovemaking. He ran his hand over the coverlet to smooth it and allowed himself a moment to envision Beth laying on its surface. The softness of the material proving no match for the silkiness of her skin. It was a tantalizing thought and he closed his eyes to hold it a moment longer.

With the bed finally, made he retreated to the doorway of the room, folded his arms across his chest and leaned his shoulder against the door jamb. Bearing his weight on his stronger leg he crossed it with the other and planted the toe of his boot into the carpet.

He ran an appraising gaze over the room and pursed his lips to one side. It lacked the personal touches that came with use and time but it certainly met his one requirement of a decent place to sleep at night. He dropped his head and shook it as he chuckled. _Strong sentiment from someone who has slept in a freezer for the past 50-plus years. What a difference a couple of days can make._

He checked his watch. It was only 7:30. Much too early to think about going to bed even though weariness was starting to nudge at the edges of his mind. He'd been up since before dawn and had been going non-stop most of the day. The previous nights of marginal sleep were catching up with him. He was tired. He almost felt 85 years old. He looked wistfully at the bed once more before turning the light out and heading downstairs.

It was also still too early to call Josef. His best friend usually hit the floor on the run during his business nights and didn't have much time to spare for casual conversation. On a normal night-normal being one when Mick wasn't human-Mick might talk to him around 1:00 in the morning. Years ago, if he was in Josef's part of town before daybreak, he would occasionally stop in for some small talk and a quick bite before heading home to bed. Josef usually had an extra willing freshie available for guests.

Since Mick had given up live feedings he satisfied himself to partake in the donated bottled variety that Josef kept in stock. The flavor was crisp and sparkling compared to the somewhat sludgy taste of the blood he purchased from his contacts at the morgue. But his tight rein on the residing predator made his self-imposed restriction on using freshies necessary.

He yawned widely as he stepped off the stairs and rounded into his office. He'd never make it till 1:00 but he might make it till 10:00 if he could keep his mind occupied. He wanted to speak directly with Josef if he could and not leave a message.

There were two cases to make final notes on before filing them away and a few messages on his business line he needed to respond to. He'd call Josef before going to bed and ask him to drop by around 4:30. He could get up early and be ready and somewhat more rested by the time Josef arrived.

However, 10:00 came and went without him picking up the phone to place the call. He conceded to himself that he could easily have left a message for Josef but was putting off meeting with him. Mick was currently enjoying his little bubble of human happiness and, frankly, did not want Josef to destroy it with his rapier witticisms that hit entirely too close to the truth. He wanted just a little more time before having this dream sacrificed on the altar of reality. He wanted to pretend, just a little longer, that this was his life and not just a brief diversion from immortality.

He grabbed the phone from the desk once again and held his finger over the speed dial to reach Josef. Then moved it to Beth's number. He could call and check on her. See how things had gone at Josh's apartment. See if she was alright. If she sounded like she wanted to hear his voice as much as he needed to hear hers.

He looked at the time again. After the day she'd had she probably would be more interested in sleeping right now than talking. He rubbed his hand over his eyes then turned his chair around to face the window behind him. The silky darkness was spotted with city lights. A week ago he would have been up only a couple of hours. Now, the bed upstairs beckoned to him with promises of comfort, and sleep rich with dreams, and he decided to give in to it.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

The mattress was even under his naked body. There were no voids between cushions to try to position his hips and shoulders around. And the pillows were meant for sleeping rather than as colorful decorations.

He'd never been able to sleep on his back as a human. He preferred to lie on his left side with his right knee bent over his left extended leg and his hand under the pillow. He'd had to stay within the confines of the sofa before. But now, the expanse of the bed allowed him enough room to find his natural sleeping position. He turned and rolled on the mattress, flipped and squished the pillows and bunched the blanket up under his knee until he finally settled in.

He breathed out a deep sigh of contentment and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of the cool pillow against his face. For this experience alone, he would give up immortality.

He snuffed sleepily and stretched his arm out lazily over the empty space between him and the edge of the bed.

Vampires used human terms when they spoke of the daylight hours they spent alone in freezers, coolers or whatever dark and frosty places they could find. He still talked of going to bed or sleeping during the day as if he worked a different shift. They were explanations that could be used in the presence of humans but didn't portray the true state he was in while lying in the freezer in the adjoining room. Josef often said "Hitting the ice." A term, no doubt, held over from the cooling options of another era.

But the truth was that it wasn't sleep as a human would experience. There was no dreamy in-between stage to span the moments from wakefulness to slumber. It was more like a switch. If he'd used the freezer regularly, and wasn't injured, he could lay awake and reflect on whatever thoughts struck his fancy for some time. But once he gave in to the cold, it consumed him in mind and body. There were no dreams to fill the hours and consider upon waking. Until he was rested and strong, or something intervened to bring him to alertness, his state of existence while resting was much closer to death than to life. That he could, for whatever time the cure gave him, tread the faint path of partial dreams before sleep overtook him was a miracle he knew mortals took for granted. You had to lose that kind of miracle in order to appreciate it.

His drowsy mind wandered back in time, unchecked by any restriction he would have placed on his thoughts had he been more awake. He couldn't help it that his mind brought to the surface a comparison of this bed and the last bed he had slept in, be it all too briefly. It had been on his wedding night. And up to that point in his life, he had never been happier.

_July12th, 1952_

_The wedding had been small. Cynthia, a girlfriend of Coraline's had stood up for her and the drummer of his band, Sam Pressman, had been his best man. A civil ceremony would have been easier but his mom wanted to have some semblance of a wedding for her youngest son and he couldn't deny her that. He knew that she didn't approve of Coraline but what mother ever thought the girl their son brought home was the right one. He, for one, couldn't believe his good fortune. And his pals were green with envy._

_His dad had dwarfed Coraline with his 6'2" frame. Taking her delicate hand he'd bent nearly double to give her a hug after the ceremony. Afterward he'd clapped Mick on the back and given him the sage advice to "Watch out for this one, son. She'll eat you alive and spit out the bones if you're not careful." Mick had laughed with his dad over this but noticed the laugh never quite reached his eyes._

_Cake and champagne all around. The girls drank but didn't eat. Nerves and form fitting dresses no doubt restricting their intake of food. Goodbyes and good-lucks said. Tears from mom and that tense smile from his dad as they drove away in Coraline's T-bird convertible with the usual cans and streamers dragging from the back bumper. Drove away from everything important to him until Coraline had entered his world. Drove away into the last few hours of his life._

Present Day

Mick roused briefly, rolled to his other side and punched the pillow into a different shape. Still not finding it satisfactory he flipped it over to its cool side and burrowed his head into it.

_July 12th, 1952_

_Mick_

_She was a beauty. He saw how other men looked at her on his arm and was proud and relieved that he could call her his own. His life with this woman would span decades of happiness that would match those he'd seen his parents enjoy. They would share their lives with their children, family and friends. He was so lucky. He would love her forever._

_Coraline_

_She ignored the looks from other men and only watched Mick. She gauged his spirit and mood and anticipated this night together as the first one in an endless progression of nights. She would show him tonight what gifts she had brought to their marriage bed. Gifts of love that he would have not believed possible. And a treasure she had been holding back until she was sure he was hers. Tonight would begin a marriage that would span centuries. He was the right one. The one she'd waited for. They would love, and hunt, and live only for each other. He was so lucky. He would be able to love her forever._

Present Day

Mick pulled the pillow out from under his head and switched it with the one on the other side of the bed. He sat up long enough to push the comforter down to the foot of the bed and bring only the sheet back up over his shoulders as he plunged back down on the mattress and into a slightly different position. He held the pillow lengthwise to his body and rested the side of his face at the top while both arms bear-hugged the lower portion. Had the pillow been alive it would have been strangled.

_July 12__th__, 1952_

_Mick_

_While their foreplay had always been intense and even rough at times, their lovemaking had always been slow and deliberate. She had never left him unsatisfied but he had never thought he had completely satisfied her. She'd always held something back. Had never completely let go and enjoyed her obviously sexual nature. Now that they were married he would get her to release herself to him. He would find the way to release the animal in her that would escalate their lovemaking to the heights he had planned for them. _

_Coraline_

_She'd been careful up to now. She had done everything she could and still maintain control while they loved. He was such a kid yet. She would teach him so much. There were so many different ways to experience and enhance pleasure when you had senses that were a hundredfold what humans could enjoy. She would teach him well and release the predator that would soon inhabit a portion of his soul. She would stop at nothing to bring him to the pinnacle of his new heritage. _

Present Day

He was hot. And the pillow was not working for him. He shoved it off the bed completely and kicked the sheet from his body to allow the cooling air to relieve the heat. Unconsciously reverting to sleeping on his back with his hands at his sides he tried again to drift off.

_July 12__th__, 1952_

_Mick_

_He'd had a little too much champagne. They had an extra bottle delivered to their room and he had pretty much finished it off all by himself. Feeling very relaxed he laid down on the bed with his bride beside him. She had removed her wedding gown and the silk slip she was still wearing was molding to her lithe form. She had straddled his hips and leaned over him to nuzzle and kiss his face and neck. He wanted nothing more than to respond in kind but found his limbs heavy and unresponsive. This was not how he had planned for the night to progress. But he was having difficulty staying focused. He tried to sit upright and reverse their position but she pushed him back down with surprising strength for her small frame. He didn't have the energy to resist and simply let her do with him as she liked. Later, when he was more alert, he could do his part._

_Coraline_

_The champagne had relaxed him and made him so much easier to handle. She had never had him completely enthralled before although she had given him little pushes to make him more docile if she thought he was liable to excite her too much. This was exactly how she had planned for the night to progress so far. Even with the alcohol in his system, however, he had still tried to play the strong male but she had easily been able to subdue him. Now he was all but asleep. She didn't want anything to go wrong. This was her first turn in over 100 years and she didn't want him to fight and risk being damaged before it was complete. The color bled out of her eyes as she inhaled Mick's human scent. It was the last time she would smell it. Everything about Mick was about to change for the better. She licked at the pulse in his neck and felt her fangs descend at the closeness of the blood to the surface of his skin. He was hers now for the taking. The lust for his blood overpowering her lust for his body. _

_Lying prone on his still form she turned his head to better expose his neck. He made a small sigh and smiled gently at her touch. The noise stirred the beast just enough, and with a growl of satisfaction she made the bite and started to drain the blood from her sleeping husband._

Present Day

Mick was sweating in spite of being completely uncovered. He wanted to, desperately needed to, sleep. Yet all he could do was watch the past replay in his head. This was not the miracle he'd been anticipating earlier. This was more of a horror. If he could just get past this he would fall asleep instantly. He'd give it just a little more time.

_July 13__th__, 1952_

_Mick_

_There was some sort of brilliant light streaming into the room blinding him. He turned from the window groggily and saw Coraline across the room. In an instant she moved to the bed. So fast that he was sure he had misjudged the distance. But with the hangover he was currently experiencing his judgment was not something he was likely to put a lot of stock in at the moment. _

_He rolled over to his side and saw blood on the pillow and bedding. A lot of it. Too much. You didn't need to be a medic to tell the difference between a nosebleed and a mortal wound. And the amount of blood he was seeing was not in the nose bleed category. _

_He sat up on one elbow and looked down at himself. He was still dressed but his clothes were saturated in blood as well. What the hell had happened? It had to be his blood. Coraline was sitting on the far side of the bed and looked fine although very apprehensive. She spoke his name and the sound echoed in his head. He reached up to the stickiness on his neck and pulled away a hand filmed with red. He stared at his fingers feeling a desire to lick them clean. Instead he rubbed his hand on the sheet trying to remove as much as he could. But he couldn't get away from the smell. It was everywhere. He could feel a rush of anxiety grow in his chest and his teeth shift slightly in his mouth. _

"_What have you done?" he asked her. He couldn't say how he knew but whatever had happened while he had been passed out was of her doing. He could feel it coming off of her in waves. _

"_I've given you my wedding gift, Mick" she responded softly and moved closer to him._

_He was on the opposite side of the room before he realized it. He wasn't sure what was going on but he definitely wanted to keep as much space as possible between them. _

_The blinds moved as he bumped up against the far wall and the weak filtered light of the early morning sun burned into his flesh like liquid fire. Startled by the pain he backed quickly into the corner and then flew around his wife and into the bathroom._

_He examined his face and neck in the mirror. The blood seemed to have come from a specific point on his neck but he could find no wounds. Seeing the reflection of the blood covering him brought on an intense overpowering hunger and he actually saw himself lick his lips in anticipation. Feeling movement against his lower teeth he leaned closer and lifted his upper lip to determine what was happening. He saw the fang elongating and let out a short bark of horror as he dropped his hand and backed away from the mirror._

_Coraline walked into the room looking much more composed and talking about giving him the greatest gift she had to give. _

_He had never been a coward before. He'd seen lots of action in the war and always managed to stand his ground. But he had never felt such unreasonable terror as this. War was something he understood. Death, destruction, fear. But this was…what? He couldn't even put a name to it. But he was terrified. And so he ran. _

_Coraline_

_The bite was not positioned as well as it should have been and she had nicked the jugular. She had never been overly careful where she bit before because it was not important to her whether or not her meal survived the feeding. But now Mick's heart was pumping his blood faster than she could take it. She was going to have to turn him soon or he would bleed out and she would lose him. All of her plans for him would be for naught. _

_She lifted one slender arm and ripped open the vein roughly to keep the wound open longer. She might not have time to do this again at the rate his blood was starting to pool on the bed. _

_She turned his head back toward her and stifled a sob when she saw he still had the smile on his face. She pressed her arm to his blue lips and mentally ordered him to drink. When he didn't she cried his name out loud and pleaded with him to do his part even though she had made such a mess of hers. Precious seconds ticked by before she felt his tongue lapping at her wrist, drawing drops of her life giving blood into his body. _

"_More, Mick! You need to drink more!" His weak lapping was starting to be replaced by a more urgent sucking and his hand came up to grip her arm. Her fear subsided as she saw and felt strength returning to him._

_She had to stop him from feeding which was a very good sign. She watched over his body for the subtle changes it would make. The puncture wounds on his neck slowly closed. The artery she had so carelessly opened moments ago, no longer pulsed to the beat of his nearly silent heart. She could hear the soft whine from his lungs as they released the unnecessary air within them._

_She had thought that her fear was over when he lay quietly back on the bed. Resting through the changes his body was experiencing. But she hadn't anticipated him running away._

Present Day

Mick sat upright in bed and uttered a growl that was more vampire in nature than human. He looked at the clock beside the bed and groaned. He'd spent the better part of three hours trying to sleep in a perfectly fine bed. He'd fallen asleep almost immediately when he slept on the sofa. It was the getting up part that caused problems.

He crawled out of the bed and stalked across the room to the door before he realized his sweating body was now too cool as he moved through the room. He slipped his lounging pants back on and grabbed his robe angrily. What was he supposed to do at 2:30 in the morning if he couldn't sleep?

He stood in the hall undecided. There was no reason to go downstairs. He wasn't hungry and working on the computer would only drive sleep farther away. He opted for going to the roof. The fresh air and quiet had always relaxed him before he became human. Maybe it would help now.

He climbed the stairs, noticing it was easier than it had been yesterday morning when he had made his trek up to see the sunrise. He hadn't thought at the time he would make viewing the sunrise part of his daily routine but at the rate this night was going he was likely to see it happen again in a couple of hours.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Josef stepped out of the elevator hoping against hope that Mick had something decent to drink. He hadn't fed well during the day because of meetings and hadn't run across anything he fancied on the way over. If Mick had his usual swill he'd opt for some good scotch and use Mick's blood supply as a thin mixer for the drink. A little friendly conversation that was not about making money and then it was a quick ride home to hit the ice.

He punched Mick's override code into the key pad and heard the door lock release. He took only a few steps into the foyer before going on alert.

The smell was wrong. Mick's scent was there but it wasn't fresh. It smelled as though he hadn't been in the apartment for several days. But there were at least three other human males who had been in the last few hours. He sensed some sort of struggle but no injuries.

The scent of one was still strong but the other two seemed to have left. The one remaining was upstairs and he knew Mick would never allow anyone upstairs where he would be most vulnerable. He opened his mouth slightly and ran the scent of the apartment along the back of his nose to get a better idea of who it was.

He didn't think he knew the man but was getting confusing signals. It had to be the smell of food in the place. There was a nauseating mixture of odors that included greasy meats and…Chinese food?

He heard the sound of footsteps crossing the rooftop and coming down the steps to the upper floor. The color in his eyes faded and he growled softly as the footsteps padded down the hall. The decision was made in an instant. An intruder into Mick's apartment was about to descend the steps. Josef prepared himself to do what startled hungry vampires are wont to do.

Attack and feed.

**A/N-Mick's had a rough night and it looks like it's not over yet. How bad do you want Josef to work him over? You have the power to tell me just by clicking on that little button down in the corner. I'd love to hear your response. The next chapter isn't complete yet so there is still time for your voice to be heard!**

**Awww…go on. You can do it! Be brave!**


	13. Intruder

**Disclaimer- No infringement intended-yada-yada-yada**

**A/N This was originally part one of the chapter but the second part of it was getting unwieldly because of its length so I chopped it up. My apologies to my faithful beta for not sending it to her. I just want to push the button and send it on its merry little way to the readers. The mistakes belong to me and me alone. **

**You ever have one of those nights when nothing seems to go right? Well, insomnia is the least of Mick's worries right now.  
**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 13-Intruder

The rooftop was entirely too refreshing. The silk of his robe and pajama bottoms were a thin barrier to the uncomfortably cool night air. It was a strange feeling to be too cold. One of his basic needs over the last half century was to remain as cool as possible. The heat of the night was tolerable but the sunny California days were an enemy waiting to assault him if he worked during the daylight hours. The sub-zero temperatures of his freezer were where he retreated to restore himself to fight the battle again the next day.

But now, the hair on his neck and arms stood up at the thought of lying in the freezer and he shivered involuntarily. He looked up at the high wispy clouds scuttling across the moon in the brisk breeze and gathered his robe more tightly around his waist. His stomach rumbled adding to his discomfort. The warmth of the apartment and the food in the kitchen were calling to him

Bare feet padding softly on the hallway floor, he gave a sideways glare at the bed as he passed the room on his way down the stairs. _Why did all the old memories get dredged up? The little journey down memory lane didn't seem to have an off ramp._

He was almost to the bottom of the stairs when he lost his balance and stumbled against the wall. The realization that he was not leaning against it for support but was actually embedded in the sheetrock between the studs was closely followed by a high-pitched ringing in his ears from his head impacting the wall.

Powerful hands pulled him from the debris and he felt suddenly weightless as he sailed over the stair case railing. He hit the floor and slid on his silk clad backside all the way to the living room, where he came to an abrupt stop when his head cracked against the edge of a sturdy square leg on the end table. His teeth had cut through his lower lip on the initial impact with the floor and the taste of blood blossomed in his mouth. The split in his scalp went unnoticed as explosions of lights went off behind his closed lids, keeping the shrill ring in his ears company.

Dazed by the sudden, unexpected attack he remained motionless on the floor, trying to orient himself. _Am I on the floor of the living room? What the…_ He wasn't even sure if he was face up or down on the floor. His left hand reached out unsteadily searching for a solid object to touch. Something tangible to help bring his world back into focus.

Before he was able to bring himself upright a snarl of rage filled the room and his attacker landed on him. A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and sharply pulled his head down and to the side, painfully widening the scalp wound. The other wrapped itself under his back and pulled him upward, pinning his right arm in the process and arcing his shoulders and neck.

Mick instinctively reached up with his left hand and grabbed ineffectually at the back of the man's jacket collar with fingers that felt thick and weak. He was stunned by the suddenness of the attack and the strength of the attacker. He tried to bring his knees up to push away, to buy himself a few seconds of respite, but his legs were pinned flat to the floor by the man straddling them.

The position he was in was familiar in the reverse. How many times had he used this same intimate embrace to restrain his prey? To prevent escape, reduce the victim's ability to struggle and to expose the neck to show the artery of choice. Too many times not to be able to tell when an intruder into his apartment was not human.

The question was which vampire was it? There was a possibility that another vampire in the community had spotted his weakness and had decided to take advantage of the situation. However, it was more likely that the vampire holding him in this deadly embrace had a much closer relationship with him.

He knew the bite was coming before he felt the cool lips touch him and the skin on his neck give way. A sharp intake of breath marked the moment of contact and a gasped moan escaped his lips as the vampire began to draw at the wound. His heart stuttered as blood was drawn from his body faster than it could pump it.

He fought the overwhelming and natural urge to struggle. It would only fuel the vampire's desire to subdue and feed and reduce his life expectancy from minutes to seconds. Instead, he gently cupped his hand over the back of the vampire's head and softly uttered the one word he hoped would save his life.

"Josef?"

**Note: Now, you've got to admit that was a good stopping point wasn't it? Huh?**

**So how many slurps do you think it takes to get to the bottom of Mick-soda? Josef has a good start on him already. **

**A few reviews would really make it a lot easier to finish this next chapter so we could find out. Give the muse a burst of energy. In the meantime…one slurpy-slurp…two slurpy-slurps…three…(don't wait too long now!)**


	14. Unwilling Freshie

**Disclaimer: No infringement intended. I'm just having fun with our favorite characters. **

**My good and faithful beta, Netelejala, is camping and I was ready to post so she didn't have a chance to work her magic on this chapter. Also, I borrowed a phrase from a story I read called "Guy Talk" by bgn. It was too perfect for Josef and I'm sure you'll pick it out. bgn is an excellent writer but doesn't have a mail addy. So I'm asking for forgiveness instead of permission. But I would like to make it up to bgn by recommending the story "Guy Talk" to you. Trust me…you'll enjoy reading it.**

**So…let's see. I think when we closed the last chapter Josef was having a drink with Mick wasn't he?**

Chapter 14-Unwilling Freshie

Josef's rage at the intruder into his best friend's home was compounded by his thirst. The human was caught completely off guard by his arrival and was not prepared for the attack.

By the time Josef's fangs were embedded in his neck the fear was almost palpable. The man was terrified. His heart beating at a furious and erratic pace trying desperately to keep up with the suction it was being subjected to. A skipped beat, and then another, signaled that it was losing the race.

The man gasped a raw moan and Josef prepared to strengthen his hold to prevent any possibility of escape. He was not above playing with his food on occasion but this time the feeding was linked to retribution on behalf of Mick. This human would not escape but Josef tensed in anticipation of the natural struggle that would occur before the lethargy preceding death took over.

However, the struggle never came. Josef could feel waves of fear flowing off the man's body but never felt him strain to free himself. Instead, he seemed to be exerting a conscious effort to control his panic and was even attempting to relax his tense muscles. When Josef felt the man's hand cradling the back of his head he opened his pale eyes with interest.

He hadn't stopped feeding. He had no intention of stopping until the job was done, which would be soon. However, this was a new development. Never had one of his victims almost lovingly caressed him during their final moments. This one was still strong enough that he should be grabbing his hair to pull him away or pummeling his back. Both would have been futile but, never the less, it was natural for a human to fight for their life.

It was only when he heard his name come from the man's lips that he stopped drawing on the wound. His fangs were still lodged in the flesh but he contented himself, for the moment, to swallowing only what the heart was able to pulse into his mouth. He immediately felt the beat strengthen as it no longer had to keep up with the vacuum he had been creating within it.

There was a quiet moment. The two creatures, one human and one vampire, were enfolded in each others arms. The human was trying to find air enough to speak again. The vampire was silently listening and continuing to passively feed.

This time the words were a whispered sigh. A mortal would not have heard them at all.

"Josef. Please don't do this. It's me. It's Mick."

Josef tensed at the shock the words carried but didn't move except to withdraw his fangs from the man's neck. Nothing he had heard or smelled told him this was his friend. To reconcile the facts he would need to look the man in the face.

The blood continued to spill into his mouth but he pressed on the wounds with his tongue to slow it. He heard the heartbeat strengthened again with the closure of the breach to its system and, when the flow of blood was reduced to seepage, Josef lifted himself from the body beneath him and felt the man's hand drop limply to the floor.

He released the bloody hank of hair he'd used as a form of restraint and turned the head to look at the face of his victim. He groaned when he saw Mick's features.

He had attacked Mick in his own home. Had someone been suicidal enough to commit such a crime against him he would have handed down a sentence using whatever form of recreational death happened to appeal to him on that day.

"Ohhh…Mick!" He choked on the name. A drop of blood fell from his still extended fangs and spattered onto Mick's cheek. The vampire reached out and, with the thumb of one hand, wiped it away. He closed his eyes and turned his head down and away from the still form, trying to rein in the beast. His thirst was more than satisfied but he still felt the rush of the kill that was only inches away and seconds to finishing. He didn't want Mick to open his eyes to see him ready to complete the task.

Mick's eyes fluttered open. Black spots bobbed back and forth across his field of vision. He could see Josef leaning over him but couldn't focus on him. The ceiling swam above him. Appearing to be close enough to touch one moment and then ascending to heights far beyond the limits of his apartment in the next.

He felt himself being pulled upward and a new scene presented itself. This looked like the staircase to his upstairs and roof but the railing was leaning out from the steps and the wall beyond showed a ragged hole about shoulder high. _About my shoulder high._

"Mick?! Buddy? Look at me!" Josef had him propped against the sofa and was kneeling in front of him while lifting his chin with one hand to stare directly into his eyes. Mick noted, with some surprise, that he looked scared. At least, if Josef was ever afraid, this is what he thought he might look like. His eyes were wide and concerned. Their color poised on the faded edge of their normal dark brown hue.

Mick gave him a brief halfhearted grin and let his gaze drift over Josef's face. There was blood in one corner of his mouth and a drop on his chin. "You're a sloppy eater," he muttered.

Josef ran his tongue over his lips and used his fingers to wipe at his mouth. Mick's head bobbled a little without the support of Josef's hand and he leaned his head back on the seat cushion behind him and closed his eyes. Anything to slow down the merry-go-round he seemed to be on.

"And you're A-positive. I hate A-positive. It's like drinking generic wine," he retorted.

Mick raised his head, focused on the wall beyond Josef and frowned, taking in the damage.

"You broke my wall," he said slowly with mock exasperation.

"No. _You_ broke your wall. With _your_ shoulder." Josef sat back on his butt and laid an arm across each knee. "_I _broke the railing." They sat eyeing each other, neither saying anything for a long minute. Both trying to gather their thoughts and come to terms with what had almost happened.

Josef dropped his eyes to the floor and shook his head. "So when were you going to tell me you found it?" he asked.

"Soon. I was going to call you tonight…but…I didn't get around to it," Mick replied languidly, eyes starting to drift shut again.

"Stalling, huh?" Josef stared at Mick over his knees. He looked like hell but didn't appear to be in any immediate danger of dying. He noticed there were some healing cuts on his face in addition to the injuries he'd acquired over the last quarter of an hour.

"Yeah," Mick said, drawing out the word. He was coming out of his stupor enough to start assessing the damage his body had undergone. He sucked in on his lower lip and ran his tongue over the painful cuts his teeth had inflicted in the soft tissue. Turning his head stretched the bite wounds and he winced. Gingerly, he reached up to touch his neck, but Josef caught his arm before he could manage it and held his hand back.

"You're fine. They're closing." Josef said, as he looked the wounds over. He smiled and pointed at Mick's neck. "You know…if those heal before you come back to the dark side you'll have the scars forever."

"Great. You just made my night so much better Josef." His swollen lip blunted the words.

"It's a mark of distinction," Josef smirked. "No one bothers my freshies. Just think how safe you'll feel from now on."

"I'm not one of your freshies," Mick responded with what he hoped was more conviction than he felt. Right now the memories of young fainting women he'd fed from over the years came flooding over him. The similarities of how they looked after the feeding and the weakness he was experiencing now were not lost on him.

"You were tonight, my friend." Josef stood effortlessly and looked down at Mick. "You're just lucky I was hungry and decided to have a snack before killing you." The humor had disappeared from his voice.

Mick pulled his feet in, propped an elbow up on one knee and ran his fingers through his hair. He winced again as he brushed against the deep cut on the back of his head. "Owww!" he grimaced, trying to untangle his fingers from the matted hair without causing more pain. He'd had his fill of pain for awhile. He dropped his hand down to see how much he was bleeding and saw Josef draw in his scent.

"Don't even think about it!" Mick said in as strong a voice as he could muster. "You don't like A-positive, remember?"

Josef lifted the hand he had used to restrain Mick's head and sniffed appraisingly at the blood still coating his skin. "It might be an acquired taste," he remarked offhandedly as his tongue flicked out delicately to his fingertip for a sample. He rolled the flavor over in his mouth and wrinkled his nose. "But then again, maybe not."

He walked to the kitchen sink and started washing his hands. The place was silent except for the sound of running water. Mick turned and hoisted himself off of the floor and onto the seat of the couch. The effort cost him what little strength he had left and he sagged against the pillow propped up on the arm. He heard drawers and cabinets being opened and closed in the kitchen and some rattling in the refrigerator and then Josef stood in front of him with a wet kitchen towel and a glass of orange juice.

"Here, drink this," he said, as he brought the glass down between them. "I don't know what it does but the girls always drink it after donating." He held onto the glass as Mick reached for it with a slightly shaking hand. The sight disturbed them both as they looked at each other over the glass.

"How hungry were you?" Mick asked as he steadied the glass with his other hand and took a long drink. He hissed in a breath as the juice pooled in his lacerated lip.

"Very," Josef replied sourly. "I came to have drinks _with_ you. I wasn't anticipating drinking _from_ you. And the answer to your un-asked question is that I took a hell of a lot less than I was going to but more than the Red Cross would recommend."

"I should have told you sooner," Mick said tiredly. He hoped if he simply conceded the fault was his he could prevent the tongue-lashing he was expecting Josef to launch.

"What? And avoided all this fun we had tonight?" Josef replied sarcastically, raising one hand in the air and gesturing around the room. "Of course you could have waited a little longer. Let me find out for myself that you joined ranks with the humans again when I had to call The Cleaner in to remove your very dead human body from your apartment." He tossed the balled-up towel at Mick who was not quick enough to intercept it before it landed with a wet smack between his legs. He jerked up reflexively. "Use that to clean yourself up. I've decided that I don't like the smell of A-positive any better than I like the taste."

Josef was in a decidedly bad mood. The adrenaline rush of the attack and near kill hadn't diminished enough. Now that he knew Mick was not in danger of expiring he was left with what to do with it and anger burst forth on his horizon of emotions like a red hot sun.

Mick lifted the cold cloth from his groin and felt the wetness spread over the silk material. He didn't have the energy to argue at the moment or even point out that a warm cloth would have been preferable to cold. He suspected Josef didn't really care right now. He sounded like he was building up a head of steam. And he was starting to pace. Pacing was a bad sign.

"So Coraline included 'give Mick back his humanity' on her itinerary?" He gestured in the air in front of him as if he were placing each word on a board. "That must have rated right up there with 'come back from the dead after twenty-two years'. Weren't you the slightest bit uneasy about taking anything from her? The last time she gave you something it was a kidnapped 4 year-old girl she wanted to make into your daughter. And we all know what a story-book ending that had. Where did she get this 'cure' anyway?"

He suddenly stopped pacing and talking. Hands in his pockets now and eyebrows raised he turned his head to look at Mick. Evidently this was a cue that it was Mick's turn to talk.

"Lance." Mick replied. "She stole it from Lance. She was trying to get away from him but he caught us in the alley behind my building. We fought with him but I wasn't much help as a…human." He glanced up at his friend as he said the word. "He took her and the cure and left."

Josef's mouth was open in astonishment. He looked away from Mick to the ceiling trying to absorb what he'd heard. He raised his arms once but let them fall to his sides as words seemed to escape him. Rounding on Mick he took a step toward him and pointed at him from across the room.

"Didn't I tell you to let the old vamps duke it out? For you to stay away from Lance?" He started his circuit across the floor again. "Jesus Christ-on-a-crutch Mick! As a vampire you couldn't win a fight against Lance and you tried to fight him as a human?"

Mick opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as Josef continued.

"Were you out of your mind or is this a side effect of the cure that Coraline forgot to tell you about? That you lose your common sense as well as all your crafty vampire abilities? Or maybe, since it's Coraline, you're not thinking with your big head again." He tapped his forehead to emphasize his point.

"I'm sorry," Mick said softly.

Josef stopped his brisk pacing and settled in before Mick again. He couldn't believe it. He walked into Mick's place unannounced; caused thousands of dollars of damage; kicked his ass and almost killed him and the man was apologizing to him? This wasn't what he needed. He wanted a justification to remain angry and lay the blame at Mick's feet. And he wasn't finding it. He turned on his heel and walked to a broader space to continue his pacing.

Mick watched him. Unsure of what to say or do, he finished his juice and began to use the towel to clumsily wipe his fingers. He couldn't bring himself to apply the cold compress to his head. He'd deal with that later. He laid the blood streaked cloth over his glass. Josef was speaking again and he tried to concentrate on the words.

"…know what I'd do to someone who broke into my home and attacked me? I'd have them eviscerated, slowly!"

"Mmhmmm," Mick murmured. Watching Josef pace was like watching a tennis match. Back and forth, to and fro, right to left, left to right.

"…not a vamp in the world I'd let get away with it."

"Mmmhmm." He pulled his legs up onto the couch and gently stretched. Nothing seemed to be broken although he was going have some hellish bruises. He'd have to get more ibuprofen in the morning.

"…didn't know it was you. You smelled different…human…"

Mmmmhmm." Mick sank deeper into the cushions. The pillow he'd been using to lean on slid farther down the arm and now supported his head. Josef's voice droned on in the background of his mind creating a web of containment around the day's events in those last few seconds before sleep took over.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Mick. I just never expected that you would find the cure. When I smelled someone else in your apartment alarms went off." Josef stopped pacing and stared at the damaged staircase. "Of course, I'll pay for the damages. But I hope you can forgive me. I…" He turned to face Mick again and saw that he was sound asleep. He silently walked to the couch and gazed down at him.

Mick was lost in slumber. He took an exceptionally long and deep breath and seemed to melt into the upholstery as his chest fell when he exhaled. His eyes darted occasionally beneath his closed lids and Josef hoped he was having good dreams and not ones filled with man-eating monsters.

He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled ruefully. "That will probably be the only apology you'll ever get from me and you slept through it."

He shook out a blanket that had been folded on the back of the sofa and tossed it over his sleeping friend. Mick turned on his side wrapping it around him as he burrowed deeper into the cushions.

Josef dropped into a chair opposite the make shift bed. He listened carefully to the steady percussion of Mick's heart and the strong sound of his lungs breathing slow and deep. He was reassured that there didn't appear to be any long lasting effects of his attack. The cuts and bruises would heal and Mick's body was already working to replenish the blood he'd lost.

He hadn't known Mick very well while he was still human. He'd seen him from a distance a few times when Coraline was luring him in for the kill and had seen him sleeping many times since he'd been turned. But now there was a distinct difference that had nothing to do with blood circulating in his veins or his heart beating rhythmically in his chest. There was a softness to his features that gave him a more youthful look in spite of the beatings he had suffered over the past few days. _I'm looking at a 30 year old man…not an 85 year old vampire_. Mick finally looked comfortable in his skin for the first time that Josef could remember.

Josef gave a tight lipped smile to his friend of over fifty years.

"Good for you Mick. Enjoy your little human vacation. I searched for the cure for 300 years and you found it in a matter of months. I guess you deserve a little break from reality.

**a/n Did you locate the borrowed phrase? Christ-on-a-crutch? I won't tell you the chapter bgn wrote it in. Go read it for yourself!**

**Now that Mick is finally asleep (bless his little beating heart) and Josef is coming to terms with almost killing his best (perhaps only?) friend…you might want to take a second and press that little review button real quiet like. Shhhhhhhh! **


	15. Surprises and Disappointments

**Disclaimer-you know how it goes. But I'd say at this point Moonlight belongs to us a lot more than CBS!**

**A/N-Remember those flowers that Mick was going to send to Beth? Sure you do. Way back in Chapter 9? Well, even if you didn't…I did. And so did Mick. He thanks you for your help! **

Chapter 15-Surprises and Disappointments

Beth had put off getting groceries long enough. Not only was there nothing in the place to eat but she had used what was left of her shampoo and the last roll of toilet paper was alarmingly small. She had her car keys out and was about to unlock the door to her apartment when a knock from the other side startled her and she withdrew her hand with a quick gasp.

"Who is it?" she called out sharply. She was surprised to hear her voice pitched a step higher than usual. She wasn't normally so apprehensive.

"Delivery from Floral Designs for Beth Turner," a woman's voice responded.

Beth rolled her eyes and snorted. _I must be losing my edge. An unexpected knock at my door and I get nervous? God, I'm pathetic._

"Just a moment!" She opened the door as far as the chain would allow and stood face to petal with a wave of purple roses. Their heady scent rushed in through the opening and filled her nostrils. Without a word she closed the door again, released the chain and, this time, opened the door wide. She'd never before seen such a stunning color in a flower.

"I'm Beth. Oh, my…they're…beautiful," she exclaimed, and reached to take them from the delivery woman. "Thank you."

She was about to push the door closed when the woman put her hand out to stop its movement. Beth jerked her head up in alarm.

The woman raised her hands, palms out. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I've got more flowers in the van to bring up. It'll take me a few trips." She gestured back down the hallway leading to the stairs.

"What?" Beth had, on occasion, received flowers from an admirer. Josh had sent her a pretty spring bouquet on her birthday last year. But she'd never gotten roses before. Ever. "Are you sure they're for me?" she asked in surprise.

"You're Beth Turner, right?" the woman questioned.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Then they're all for you." She smiled. "I'll be right back."

Beth left the door slightly ajar and crossed to the living room to put the flowers on the coffee table. She buried her face in the blossoms and inhaled deeply of the rich smell hanging on every petal. Opening her eyes to enjoy their beauty she looked for the card and saw it was in Mick's handwriting. '_For Beth' _it read. She smiled with delight and opened the flap of the envelope to remove the card.

_Lavender-For the enchantment of loving you at first sight. Mick_

"Oh, Mick," she breathed and ran her finger over the face of the card and his strong clear lettering. A grin was threatening to burst across her face and she pressed her lips together tightly.

"Hello?" The woman had reappeared with a vase in each hand. Beth took a dozen coral-colored roses from her and gestured to the kitchen counter for her to set down the remaining bouquet of orange-tinted flowers. They were followed by a dozen yellow and pink which she set on her dresser and then red and deep burgundy. The red joining the two dozen already on the kitchen counter and the burgundy gracing her stove top since she was running out of counter space.

She walked back to the door with the delivery woman, still holding the card from the purple-_no, lavender_-roses and in complete awe of the gift.

"Thank you." she said.

The woman smiled and raised her index finger. "I have one more left."

"More?" Beth said starting to count the vases. I'll have to put them in the bathroom!" she exclaimed. She was smiling widely now and her blue eyes were bright with excitement.

"This is a much smaller arrangement," she said. "You won't have a problem finding a place for this." She left again and returned with a small vase holding only two roses, one red and one white. Beth opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. The two contrasting roses struck an intimate chord in her heart. The significance of the dark, blood red rose next to the pure white one was not lost on her. They were almost opposites but complemented each other perfectly.

"OK. That's it!" the delivery woman said. She turned to leave but stopped and faced Beth again. "You know, I was there last night when your boyfriend came in to place this order. I think you've got a keeper with that one. He insisted on writing all the cards himself. Enjoy your flowers." She smiled again, winked and then closed the door behind her as she left.

Beth turned around in the middle of her quiet apartment. In every direction she looked there were roses. She'd never had so many flowers in her house at one time. It smelled like warm summer days, and sunshine and laughter and…love. She practically skipped to each vase to remove the cards and then bounced down on her bed like a teenager to read them.

She took another deep breath from the double rose arrangement before setting the vase on the bedside table in front of Mick's photo and opening the cards. They were each addressed '_For Beth'_.

_Coral - For the desire you create in me to be close to you. Mick_

_Yellow - For the promise of a new beginning. Mick_

_Orange - For the enthusiasm for life that you share with me. Mick_

_Pink - For believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself. Mick_

_Burgundy - For your unconscious beauty. Mick_

_Red - For the love, courage and passion with which you live your life. Mick_

The final card from the red and white roses setting beside her bed was addressed to '_My Beth'_.

_Red and White – For unity. Will you have dinner with me? I get to choose the place. You get to be surprised this time. Love Mick_

Where moments before she'd been almost giggling with excitement she now had tears running down her cheeks. She sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes with her fingers. The flowers were a beautiful and extravagant show of endearment. But the cards broke her heart with the emotion welling within it. She agreed with the woman. Mick was a keeper and she intended on letting him know it.

She had the phone in her hand and had dialed his number before she had time to blow her nose.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Carl sat at his desk looking across at Max and wondering why in the world Josh Lindsey had retained him as a private investigator. He could only think that an opportunity had presented itself to find out some facts without having any kind of official file opened within the office and Lindsey had taken advantage of it. He looked again at the business card in his hand. _Max Stang, Private Investigator. _ The dog-eared, grimy card suited the man sitting across from him. Both had seen much better days.

"What, exactly, can I do for you Mr. Stang?" Carl asked, tossing the card on the desk.

"I heard that ADA Lindsey'd been murdered and figured someone might want the information he was expecting me to bring in." Max was bouncing his knee nervously. After waiting for almost an hour for Davis to get out of a meeting, he needed a cigarette badly. But he could tell that Davis would shut him out if he appeared overeager. He had to play this right.

Carl took a quick glance at a random file on his desk, closed it and shuffled it to the side. "And who was ADA Lindsey having you investigate?" he asked casually. He leaned back and relaxed his hands over the arms of his chair.

"Mick St. John," Max replied.

The name dropped like a bomb waiting to detonate. Carl couldn't stop the surprised look from crossing his face and cursed himself for it. Of all the names he might have suspected this character to say Mick's wasn't among them. This might tie in with the file on Beth that he'd found in Lindsey's desk and was now stowed just a hands breadth away in his own.

Max noticed the sudden interest Carl was exhibiting. "I've only been on the case a few days but I told him I'd check back in with what I had. Photos, dates, associates, a few incidents." He thought he'd leave the GPS out of the offer for the time being. No sense laying all his cards on the table right away.

"Let me see what you've got." Carl sat back up in his chair and extended his hand for the file but Stang was not immediately offering up the envelope. Carl sighed and rested his elbow on the desk. "Since ADA Lindsey is not here to back your story up I'll need to see it for myself." He crooked his fingers a couple of times hoping to encourage Stang to relinquish the envelope. If he didn't then he'd send him on his way. He didn't have time to play games with the guy.

Max passed the envelope over the desktop to Carl's waiting hand but didn't let go. "He was to pay me the remainder of my fee today and we were going to discuss the…next phase…of the job." Max smiled. He liked the sound of that. Who was there to disprove what he and Lindsey had discussed?

"I think I can see that you are reimbursed for your time and trouble. Especially if this…investigation…has pertinent information about a case." Max released the envelope and Carl pulled the flap from around the brass clasp. "Do you know why he was having you follow St. John?"

"Never said. Just asked that I tail him and note where he'd been and who he'd been with. If you ask me St. John is one weird son-of-a-bitch. Usually works the graveyard shift. Everyplace I've tailed him has been at night, except for yesterday. Yesterday he came out during the day." Max wasn't sure of what Davis thought of St. John but if he could undermine the bastard in anyway he wanted to do it.

A mass of poorly taken photos, in no particular order, and a time-line of activities fell out onto Carl's desk. He wasn't terribly impressed by the quality of Stang's work. However, he was interested to note that a lot of the photos had Beth in them. They had evidently lunched together in an outdoor garden area. Or, at least, Beth had lunch. While she was sitting in the sun eating, Mick was in the shadows with sunglasses and a billed cap on.

"Hmph. Guess he wasn't hungry," Carl muttered. He flipped through the photos until he arrived at a night shot showing Mick on his hands and knees, in an alley, reaching for the door handle of a car with its windshield broken out.

He frowned over the photo. "What happened here?" he asked, flipping the photo around so that Stang could see it.

Max pointed to a date and time on the list. "That was behind his apartment building. I think he'd been mugged."

"You, of course, went to help him and then filed a report didn't you?" Carl asked sarcastically, knowing full well that this guy would not be the type to step in if there was any danger involved.

Max's knee started to bob up and down again. "Nah. He looked like he was gonna be ok. I didn't want to blow my cover."

"Your cover?" Carl stared intently at the man. "And what 'cover' would that be, Mr. Stang?"

Max looked at Carl smugly. "You know. Just another face in the crowd. I didn't want him to get a good look at me. Especially since Lindsey wanted me to keep tailing him." He absentmindedly reached for the cigarettes in his shirt pocket but caught himself and continued the movement up to wipe his upper lip with the back of his hand.

Carl looked again at the photo. In spite of the poor quality it was clear to see that Mick was badly hurt. No doubt he could have used some help. He'd have to check it out to see if Mick had filed an assault report.

He shuffled through more photos of Beth and Mick crossing a parking lot. Then there was one of Mick that was completely out of context with the others. It was obviously a photo of a photo. By the clothing and hairstyle he would have guessed it had been taken in the late 40's or early 50's. He held it up to show Max, who paled at seeing it. This was evidently one that had not been intended to be in the envelope. Carl allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk up. "Where did you take this one?" he asked.

"Ummm…lemme think. Uh…yeah! I remember now. St John's car was parked, the top was down. I just rifled through the glove box and came across that. Looked odd. Looks like him but the date on the back said 1952. That'd make him about 80 now, huh?" He laughed nervously. "Maybe it's his dad or something." A light sheen of sweat had broken out over his forehead.

Carl looked more closely at the photo. It seemed to be laying flat on a yellow cloth surface of some kind. He was familiar with Mick's Benz and was sure it did not have a yellow interior. He also wondered why Mick would be carrying an old photo of his dad in his glove box.

The last photo was a night shot of Mick walking into a bar. "When was this taken?"

"Late Friday night. I was just starting my surveillance of him. I thought he was stopping in for a quick drink until I heard the shots."

Carl frowned and looked up quickly at Max. "Shots? You heard gunfire?"

"Yeah! There was a hell of a fight. I heard 4 or 5 shots then the place went quiet. I waited for three hours for him to come out. Never did see him. So I left. Next morning his car was back at his place."

Carl's eyebrows shot up. "And you never went inside to…investigate? Or better yet, call the police?"

"Look, I didn't agree to help Lindsay just to get myself shot. I wasn't carrying and someone's always shooting something off in those cantinas. Besides, I wanted to keep my…"

"Your cover. Right." Carl tried unsuccessfully to keep the disgusted look off of his face. Unfortunately the guy was right. Shots fired in those little family bars were not unusual and typically went unreported unless someone ended up hurt or dead. "Where is this place?"

"Hollenbeck Bar. Little Mexican dive. He went clear out of his way to get to it. I thought he was lost," Max said.

A piece of another puzzle suddenly appeared. Carl wasn't sure how it fit but he knew approximately where it belonged. Last Friday Mick had told him Bustos said Tejada was hiding out at the Compos Bar. But then Mick goes to the Hollenbeck? He hadn't thought of it till now but Mick hadn't followed them to the Compos, which was out of character for him. Given the events of the day he would have thought Mick would have wanted to have been in on catching Tejada. Unless, he knew Tejada wasn't at the Compos.

"You're sure it was The Hollenbeck he went to? Not the Compos?" Carl asked.

"Man, I sat there for three fucking hours waiting for St. John to come out. I know what the sign said over the door. Hollenbeck. His car never moved. It was still there when they shut the place down for the night. I know the Compos. This place is clear on the other side of town."

Max could tell he'd hit pay-dirt with that last photo. Carl was interested. Now might be the time to make his move.

"So I'm set up and ready to go for a few more days. I cancelled my other appointments so I could concentrate on this one. I got expenses so I'd like to pick up my pay and get an advance on the next few days work." He tried to make it sound like he was doing Carl a favor.

Carl stared at his desk trying to understand how the photos fit together. Last Friday, after they'd come back from the Compos, he'd gone back in to question Bustos. The guy was scared shitless. Every time Carl asked him where Tejada was he'd say "Se lo llevo el Diablo." The devil took him. What the hell kind of an answer was that? He was being monitored currently in the psychiatric unit uptown. He kept praying for God to forgive him and keep the beast away from him. Carl was now wishing he knew what Mick had said to Bustos that night in the interrogation room.

"So, I'll come back in a couple of days with more surveillance," Max said trying to bring the detective back to the topic.

Carl raised his head to regard the PI. "I don't think we'll need your assistance any longer Mr. Stang. I'll see that a request for your payment is submitted. A check will be sent to your business." He tapped Max's business card.

Desperation leapt into Max's throat. "Oh but…Lindsey and me…we had a deal going. I was gonna keep track of St. John for him. I was working exclusively for him over the next few weeks."

"Mr. Stang. ADA Lindsey is dead. Murdered last Friday. I don't know

what kind of arrangement you had with him but it's null and void at this point. Thank you for your help. I'll look these over and decide if they fit into any of our open cases." He stood up and looked down at Max, who wasn't getting up. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Mr. Stang?" Carl said, encouraging him to leave by motioning to the doorway. The man finally stood, gave Carl a malicious glare and headed back out to the lobby of the station.

Carl sat back down and reached into a bottom drawer to pull out the file folder on Beth. Whatever questions Lindsey had about Beth was now drawing in Mick and with him…Tejada. His instincts were telling him that Mick knew something about Tejada's disappearance. By the end of the day he'd know if Mick had filed an assault report and if anything was logged about a disturbance at the Hollenbeck Bar. Maybe he'd even pay Mick a visit and see what kind of spin he'd put on the story.

As he combined the photos from Stang with those already in the file his eye caught sight of the old picture of Mick. It sure looked like him but Stang had said 1952 was written on the back. That didn't make sense. It could be his dad or an uncle he supposed but the likeness was uncanny. Perhaps a quick dip into Mick's family records was warranted. With all the information available these days he should be able to pull up whether the man wore boxers or briefs.

**A/N Anyone feel sorry for Max yet?! Poor guy won't be able to pay the rent on that dump of his if this keeps up! **

**And now we're back to the question that makes the world go around. Boxers or briefs? Now is time to cast your ballot. Tell the world, or at least the readers of this fanfiction, your opinion. Press the review button and let it fly. **


	16. The Morning After

**Disclaimer: I do not own Moonlight. But if CBS stock keeps going down they might wish they did again!**

**a/n--Poor guy. All Mick wants is a good nights sleep right now. But some cruel, inhuman, sadistic writer has had him suffering! She's such a witch! I'll try to talk some sense into her but in the meantime let's check up on him. He's had a rough night!**

**Chapter 16-The Morning After**

Mick was floating up through the mists of sleep. He was aware of his shoulders being cool and tugged on the blanket at his waist only to feel the air on his exposed feet. A vague thought entered his head that he must have made up his bed wrong for the blankets to be so short but it drifted away before he could follow it.

His body woke before his mind was ready to accept consciousness. His muscles ached so he stretched and sighed with satisfaction as he prepared to roll to his other side. He reached for the expanse of mattress he knew was beside him, just in time to break his fall from the couch to the hardwood floor.

The jarring surprise at getting such a close-up of his living room floor was doubled when he heard a low chuckle from the kitchen.

"Now there's a Kodak moment," said Josef. He was leaning with his hips back against the island cabinet and his hands on the countertop behind him. Sans jacket or tie, his shirt was open at the neck and his hair had been finger combed. There was a glass of thick red liquid on the counter beside him. "Falling out of bed ruins the whole tough PI persona you've developed. Good thing your freezer has sides."

Mick sat on the floor, dazed for a moment, trying to recall why he had been sleeping on his couch again and why Josef was lounging in his kitchen. He seemed to be teetering on the edge of remembering but it kept skipping away. His head felt like it was filled with thick, fuzzy wool.

"So how are you feeling?" asked Josef as he raised the glass to his lips. His words were casual but he was carefully gauging his friend's condition. Mick's heart beat was a bit rapid and his blood pressure was up. No doubt due to his little tumble off of the couch. But he was also dehydrated and his blood sugar was marginally low. It seemed that some breakfast would soon be in order for the resident human.

Unaware that his vitals were being surreptitiously monitored, Mick rubbed his face with his hands and yawned widely. He circled his head in a stretch and reached up to massage the stiffness out of his neck. When his fingers brushed against the puncture wounds the nights events suddenly came rushing back over him.

"You bit me!" Mick exclaimed hoarsely. His throat and mouth felt like the wool stuffing from his head was working its way down.

"Yes," Josef nodded. "Yes I did. Not one of my finest hours. So why don't we talk about something else." He smiled tightly, circled behind the counter and came back into Mick's line of sight with a mug. "Coffee?" he asked cheerfully.

"You made coffee?" Mick asked incredulously, staring at him in amazement. He had to be dreaming. Josef making coffee was tantamount to pigs flying.

"What can I say? I was feeling domestic." He held the cup up to his nose. "It smells and looks like coffee but I'm not promising what it tastes like. It's been about 50 years since I tried to make any and as I recall it wasn't well received even then."

The smell of the coffee made Mick's mouth _try_ to water but he didn't seem to have any spit to work with. He was suddenly ravenous as well as extremely thirsty. He started getting to his feet but as soon as he stood upright a wave of dizziness swept over him and he swayed slightly. Josef's voice, suddenly close to his ear, startled him. He was standing with one hand under Mick's elbow and the coffee mug in the other.

"You want to sit down?" Josef asked mildly. Mick frowned at him. All this attention from Josef was unsettling. He was also feeling another, more pressing need, than taking in more liquid, and that was to get rid of some. He pushed the coffee away and attempted to extricate himself from Josef's grip on his elbow.

"Are you alright?" Josef could tell Mick was distressed but couldn't pinpoint the problem. Before releasing his arm he wanted to be sure Mick was capable of standing on his own.

"I've got to piss like a race horse." Mick said. He held his arm up to keep Josef at bay and started shuffling to the downstairs bathroom, the sash to his open robe dragging along behind him.

Josef barked a quick laugh. "Impressive!" he called loudly at Mick's retreating back. "I'm sure you'll be the envy of the paddock," he added wryly, too softly for Mick to hear. He crossed back to the kitchen swirling the coffee in its mug.

"What time is it?" Mick asked from the bathroom.

"Early," Josef called back. "Not even 6:00 yet." He set the mug on the counter where Mick could reach it when he returned.

Relieved of his full bladder Mick washed his hands and face in the sink and rinsed his mouth out with some water. It tasted so good he swallowed several handfuls before standing to face his damp reflection.

The florescent light in the room washed out what little color he had left under the slight tan he'd been developing over the last few days. Dark circles under his eyes added to the pallid look. His hair was still matted with blood and his lower lip was swollen. Turning his head to inspect his throat he was dismayed to see the marks of Josef's fangs hidden in the black plum colored bruising that ran from below his right ear to just above his collarbone. _Not exactly the poster boy for a healthy human lifestyle. I looked better undead. _

He stood up straight, dried his face and tied his robe. Maybe he could catch some more sleep after Josef left. He didn't relish sleeping a day away but he wouldn't have the energy to get through until tonight without more rest. He could feel he was pushing his limits already. Every step he took was like trying to move through thick mud. His limbs were heavy and ungainly and his heart was pounding in his chest just from his walk across the apartment.

He slogged his way back to the kitchen and stopped on the opposite side of the counter from Josef to watch him lift a tray of food from an embossed box and set it next to several bottles of juice and water.

"Coffee _and_ breakfast?" he asked. "When did you get these?" His thirst being greater than his hunger he opened a bottle of raspberry flavored water and gulped half of it down before stopping for a breath. It wasn't quite the same effect he would have gotten from drinking blood as a vampire, but it was awfully close. The lightly flavored liquid refreshed and revitalized him.

The smell of the coffee caught his attention again and he abandoned the water bottle to reach for the mug with one hand and one delicate quiche tart with the other. The combined smell was heavenly and his stomach rumbled responsively.

"I called my office and had them place an order to deliver here." Josef said. "My meetings, that include human participants, are sometimes catered. This restaurant has gotten good reviews from the clients." He watched Mick devour three more tarts in quick succession and then sniff a miniature apricot muffin before peeling it from its paper wrapper and popping it into his mouth.

He followed Mick's process of food selection with interest. Watching his best friend, with whom he had shared countless drinks and feedings over the years, eat hors-dourves and drink coffee was disturbing. It was as if the sky had suddenly turned purple and no one thought it unusual.

"I also had some decent liquid refreshments brought over," he said, lifting his glass as if he were about to make a toast. "That swill you keep needs to be disposed of. It's long past its prime-if it ever had one." He finished the contents of his glass and saw Mick watching him intently. It seemed that they were both considering the other's choice of breakfasts.

"So…how's your neck?" Josef asked with a lift of his chin.

Mick licked a crumb of muffin from his fingers and glowered at Josef. "It feels like I've been mauled."

"You were. I don't waste time on delicacy unless I plan for the victim to survive." He reached out and lifted the neck of Mick's robe away from his skin. "Ugh! That's ugly," he said, dropping the fabric back into place. "Not some of my better work." He pointed a finger toward Mick and leveled his gaze at him. "Tell anyone I did that and I'll deny it."

Mick set his mug down on the counter and stared into it. Concentration knitting his brow into a near frown. Now that the edge had been taken off of his hunger and thirst he could afford to expend some minor effort on other thoughts. Such as discussing the marks Josef had left on his neck.

"Josef? Last night you said when I returned to the 'dark side' I'd carry your mark. How do you know?" He raised his eyes to look at Josef but kept his head lowered.

Josef looked at him curiously. "Mick, you know whatever scars you have when you're turned you keep." He dropped his hand to his left buttock. "I still have one on my…"

"No." Mick raised his head completely and tilted it inquisitively to one side. "I mean, how do you know the cure isn't permanent? How do you know I'll revert?"

He held the vampire's gaze for a long moment before Josef lowered his eyes and studied what was left in his glass. "Oops," Josef said softly.

"You knew?" Mick asked in amazement. "You knew all along and never told me the truth even after I asked you?"

Josef grimaced and raised his face to the ceiling. "You don't _also_ remember hearing me say the word 'sorry' last night do you?"

"What?" Mick responded in confusion. "No. You… you apologized to me?"

"Of course not," Josef replied confidently. "I just wanted to know what that addled brain of yours remembered from last night. All right then. It's legend Mick. The Cure," he used his fingers to form quotation marks in the air, "is a tale that's been around for as long as we have. It's the vampire equivalent of the Fountain of Youth or the bucket of platinum at the end of the rainbow."

"Gold, Josef. It's a pot of gold," Mick corrected sternly.

"Yeah, well, gold doesn't bring what it used to," Josef countered. "The point is that it's a story. A sort of fable. But, like all good fables it has a kernel of truth in it. It's that kernel that I've been tracking over the years.

"If you thought it was just a fable then why didn't you tell me about it?" Mick asked.

Josef slapped the palms of both hands on the counter between them and leaned toward Mick. "Because you did exactly what I knew you would do. You pissed off some very old and powerful vamps." He plunged one hand into his pocket and gestured expansively with the other. "Coraline comes traipsing back into your life with a carrot and you go in search of the Holy Grail of vampires! Do you think you're the only one who's interested in this stuff?"

Mick rubbed his forehead with one hand willing his brain to keep up with the conversation. "So, why do you want it? You don't want to rejoin 'the mortal coil'. You said so yourself."

"Because it's power, Mick. It's control. It's…protection," he said rapidly. In his agitation he was starting to pace again.

"You think I talk about those torch wielding mobs in jest? I don't." He turned and pointed his finger at Mick. "You get enough frightened humans together and give them a target and you've got a vampire massacre on your hands. Consider how many of them there are compared to how few of us. There have been several times over the years when I could have used this compound to my advantage. I know it certainly would have beat hiding in a hole waiting them out."

"Even after seeing Morgan I wasn't convinced. I've seen enough doppelgangers that one who looked like Coraline wouldn't have been unusual. But that was, of course, _before_ you told me that you hadn't gone back to see your beloved's ashes after you decided to torch her. That put a decidedly different light on her sudden reappearance."

Josef stopped and threw a knowing glare at Mick who nodded sheepishly. It had been a careless mistake that had come back to bite him in the ass. He should have gone back after getting Beth safely home that night. If he had he could have avoided tainting the last twenty-two years of his life with guilt over a murder he hadn't committed, even though it wasn't for wont of trying.

"And now it's gone." Mick stated dully.

"No." Josef said as he turned on his heel. He grinned and raised one finger into the air. "Now I know it really exists. As you, my muffin-eating friend, are living-proof of. _And_ I know who has it. No matter what you might think, I can be a very patient vampire when I choose to be. If Lance has the compound I at least know it's safe. He plays his cards close to the vest."

"Maybe closer than you think," Mick offered. "Coraline is his sister." He watched for Josef's reaction.

Josef actually looked surprised by this news. "Well now…that is close." He regarded Mick brightly. "What a fun little family you married into. No wonder you're so morose."

Mick started to speak but Josef looked at his watch and raised his finger signaling for quiet. In the distance of the upstairs Mick heard a muffled chirping.

"Is that my phone?" he asked, trying to focus on the sound. He never used to have such a hard time keeping track of it.

"That reminds me…Beth called," Josef remarked offhandedly. He had his tie in his hands and was starting to thread it under his collar.

"Beth called? When?" He didn't think she would call before 6:00 in the morning unless there was a problem.

"Let's see." Josef ticked the times off on his fingers. 10:00; 11:00; 12:00; 1:00; 2:00…" he waved his hand dismissively. "You get the picture. I hardly got any sleep. You need more soundproofing in your freezer room. By the way…I turned your freezer down a few degrees. It was too warm for me to get comfortable in this morning."

"This morning? You slept in my freezer this morning?" The implication dawned across his face. "You mean, right now, it's 6:00 _in the evening_?" Mick exclaimed. "You said it was early!" He wasn't sure if he was upset more by the fact that he'd slept the whole day or that he still felt like he needed to sleep another ten hours or so.

"It _is_ early…for me. For you, it's…late." Josef grinned smugly. His tie now in place he slipped into his suit jacket and adjusted the silk handkerchief in his breast pocket.

Mick crossed the room to the stairs. "How do you know it was Beth?" he asked over his shoulder. He started to scale the steps quickly only to stop and brace himself with one hand against the ruined wall. Dizziness swept over him again and the steps undulated before his eyes. Josef started toward him but Mick warded him off.

"I'm fine, Josef. I just need…a minute…" He lost his grip on the wall and sat down abruptly on one of the steps, breathing shallowly.

Once Mick was seated on the stairs, and didn't appear to be in danger of falling over what remained of the railing, Josef contented himself to watch him from the living room. "I know it was Beth because I checked your voicemail. I would have turned the damned thing off but I figured that would only make her drive over here to check on you and I thought you needed your beauty sleep today."

Mick made a noise in his throat that, three days ago, would have been a growl, then rose slowly to make his way upstairs to retrieve his phone. Keeping one hand on the wall, and his steps deliberate, he returned and met Josef at the bottom of the stairs.

Josef approached so closely that Mick could feel his breath on his face. He stood quietly as the scenting vampire assessed him.

"Mick, do you remember how you felt after Coraline turned you?" Josef shook his head at what he knew was going to be Mick's response. "Not the whole 'you betrayed me and turned me into a monster' thing. But the confusion? The gnawing hunger? The need for…something…that you knew you had to have but you had no way of knowing what it was or how to get it?"

Mick watched the color bleeding in and out of Josef's eyes. He nodded his acknowledgement of the memory. Even after so many years it was overpowering. Some of the details might be a bit blurry but the essential driving need of his first hours as a vampire was still perfectly clear in his mind. He wondered sometimes if the intensity of it would fade over the centuries.

"You're still a vampire, Mick," Josef continued. He tapped two fingers on Mick's chest. "The beast may be sleeping somewhere deep inside of you…but it's still there. And when it wakes, it won't be confused this time. It will know _exactly_ what it wants and how to get it. And it won't worry about the 'where' part. Just be careful my friend. It would be a shame for your little vacation to the land of humanity to cost you more than you're willing to pay."

He gripped Mick's shoulder tightly, his now deep brown eyes studying the older looking man to see if he understood his meaning. Satisfied, he turned crisply on his heel and strode to the door.

"But for now, I think slow and easy is going to be your mantra for the next few days." Josef reverted to his usual staccato tempo speech pattern as he tugged his cuffs neatly into place beneath his jacket sleeves. "My recommendation? Stay home. Watch TV. Read. I'll have the office call the caterer to deliver some meals. But you're on your own for the coffee. Call me if you need anything but I'll be in touch."

He stopped short of the door and snapped his fingers as he turned to face Mick, who was now sitting bleary-eyed on the stairs and looking, for all the world, as if he could fall asleep on the step.

"Oh! By the way? Beth likes the flowers."

Mick smiled tiredly and perked up a bit at the mention of Beth. "She does? Did she sound happy?"

"No. She was crying. At least for the first two calls. I'd call her back if you don't want her showing up here. She's going to have some serious questions if she sees you looking the way you do right now. If you don't mind my saying so, you look a little rough around the edges, buddy." He grinned impishly.

Mick opened his mouth to reply but the door clicked shut at the same time his phone rang again. He slowly turned it over in his hand to check the ID and was not surprised to see that it was Beth. He thought Josef was right. He'd better talk to her now. He just hoped he had the presence of mind to come up with a good reason why he hadn't called her back all day. He took a deep breath and answered the call.

"Hey Beth," he spoke into the receiver.

**a/n--I just read a study that said men typically use 2000-4000 words a day versus the 8000-9000 words a day that women use. Hopefully since Mick has been sleeping all day he'll have saved a few words back to use to talk with Beth…'cause I'll bet she's going to be curious about his where-abouts all day. **

**If you have a few words left at the end of your day after reading this, you could put them in writing and send a review of this chapter. Trust me, it would add many happy words to my day tomorrow and maybe even seep over into the next chapter! **


	17. The Direct Approach

**Disclaimer: I don't own my car or my house. So it should come as no surprise that I don't own Moonlight!**

**A/N--Many thanks to the great readers and reviewers for living in this special little universe with me. Like Mick said-"…it's not so fun to experience things alone." You make this so much more fun.**

**As for this chapter…it is a little like a buffet. A little of this and that. Just getting the stage set for later events.**

Chapter17-The Direct Approach

Three times during the day Carl had picked up and read the folder and three times he'd set it aside. But the information, or lack of it, kept niggling the back of his mind and he found the file in his hands, yet again, reviewing the computer screen prints and data compiled on one private investigator, Mick St. John.

The information contained in the folder was pretty straight forward. Mick was born and raised in Los Angeles. He went to high school and college locally. His dad started St. John Investigations back in 1969 and Mick seemed to be a chip off the old block. He took over the business two years after graduating from college in 1998 when his father retired. Both parents were now deceased. No siblings. No extended family. No military record.

His credit history was squeaky clean and showed he was buying his penthouse and office from a firm called A Positive Approach Enterprises based out of Portland, Oregon. He had no large unexplainable assets but seemed to spend a small fortune on security and electronic gear. For a PI who knew his stuff, that would go with the territory.

Before Lee Jay Spaulding popped out of prison and started making accusations the worst thing Carl could find on Mick was a speeding ticket six years ago. After Beth had meted out what Carl secretly thought of as well deserved justice to Spaulding, Mick had been cleared of all assault charges.

Carl's face wrinkled in a frown. The whole file was wrong somehow. It had a thin veneer of authenticity and would hold up to a cursory examination, but Carl's instincts told him it didn't measure up. He was looking at the bare bones of a file…and he wanted the meat.

Computer records could be so easily tampered with by someone who knew what they were doing. Taking a look at the original records might shed light on Mick's superficial history. It would be like taking a step back in time to actually look at paper files recorded in someone's pen and ink handwriting or typed on one of the old manual typewriters they used back in the day.

Carl's dad, Officer Franklin Davis, had always said that if he didn't write it down in his nightly notes he'd never get it on the report right. Carl took that to heart when he'd entered the Police Academy and consistently wrote his notes down when he was working a case. Carl's usually stern features softened briefly at the thought of his father. But, in typical fashion, the one thought brought him to another that opened a door he hadn't considered before.

Michael St. John, Sr. would have been working his business during the same time that Carl's dad would have been on the LAPD. Carl wondered if the two men had ever met on a case. It was a much smaller world back then and it could certainly have been possible. His dad had died of a heart attack when Carl was twelve; but his dad's partner, Bobby Desmond, remained on the force and had eventually moved up to Detective.

Bobby had stayed close with his partner's family for years but visits came fewer and farther between as Carl's two brothers and sister left the nest and Carl had followed in his father's footsteps and joined the force. Carl was surprised when he figured up that it had probably been over two years since he'd seen Bobby. He'd always come over for holidays when Carl's mother had been alive but after she'd passed away the old family traditions died out.

Carl leaned back in his chair and rested his chin in one hand while the other absently slapped Mick's case-file up and down on his desk. Maybe it was time for him to pay Bobby a visit…and talk about the old times.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Beth was just about to close her phone, _without_ leaving a message this time, when she heard Mick's voice answer.

"Mick? Where have you been? Are you OK?" She fired the words into the phone. She hadn't realized how worked up she'd become over not being able to contact him. She was on the cusp of moving from worried to angry.

"Yeah," he answered, surprised by the frantic tone in her voice. "Yeah," he said again, trying to infuse the word with a little more strength than he felt at the moment. "I'm fine. I've just had some business to take care of. Sorry I didn't get back with you. It's been kind of a crazy day." He rolled his eyes as he spoke. _Would you believe I got bit by a vampire?_ "So, what's going on?" He rubbed his free hand over his face and sat up a little straighter on the step to help him focus on the conversation. If she was already worried there was no reason to arouse her suspicious nature any further. _Pay attention St. John._

"I've been worried. You didn't answer my calls. Now that you're…human…well, I just thought you could have been in an accident or were sick." It sounded pathetic even to her. He'd been taking care of himself since World War II for Christ's sake. But she couldn't stop the worry from boiling up. It would be just like life to take him from her at this juncture. What would she do? How would she cope with losing him too?

"I'm fine Beth, really." He smiled inwardly. He didn't need super hearing to pick up on the strain in her voice. She was worried…and about him.

The knowledge spilled warmth and contentment through him. No one had really worried about him since he'd left his human world behind. Well, to be fair, that was not completely accurate. He was sure his parents had worried about him when he disappeared after his marriage to Coraline. But he hadn't been around to appreciate it.

How many times, as a young man, had he told his mother to stop worrying about him? That he could take care of himself? Now, having someone concerned over his welfare, made him feel like he'd just stepped up several rungs on the ladder of life. If Beth was worried about him that must mean he was worth worrying about. It was a perspective of his life he hadn't experienced for years.

She didn't need super hearing either to note something in his voice that told her he was not exactly fine. He sounded tired; weary even. And evasive. She had been around him long enough to hear the words that were not spoken. The meanings that were hidden in the tones of his voice. If she were looking at him right now she was sure she would see him rub his hand over his face and roll his eyes to somewhere over her left shoulder to avoid having to look at her directly.

A car horn blared at some pedestrians trying to cross the street where she was parked. They yelled back at the driver, competing with the horn to be heard.

"Where are you?" he asked, listening to the sounds coming from the background.

"I'm in my car. Mick?" Her voice softened. "I got the flowers."

"Yeah, I heard." A smile lilted into his voice. "Did you like them?"

"Like them?" She laughed softly at the understatement. "How could I not? They're beautiful. The cards were beautiful too. Thank you. And I'd love to have dinner with you." _And breakfast, and lunch, and…_

A van pulled up and parked in front of her. A young man dressed in a white food service uniform got out and opened the back doors to reveal several large boxes that he began to shift around in the back of the vehicle.

Mick's teeth ground together. He'd wanted to have dinner with her tonight but given that both he and his apartment looked like hell, now was not the best time. He really didn't want to have to explain what had happened. The habit he'd developed over the years of keeping up surface appearances kicked in.

"How about I call you with the date and time? I've got…some things to attend to. So it might be a couple of days." He poked at the ruined wall he was sitting beside. A hunk of it broke off in his hand and showered him with sheetrock dust for his trouble.

A couple of days of sleeping and eating should make him feel, and look, considerably better than he did right now. His invitation for dinner was intended to be a prelude to what Josef, had so indelicately called, 'sealing the deal'. While he cringed at the use of the words, the end result was the same. He wanted Beth and, now that the beast was tamed for awhile, felt he would not be risking her safety should she be agreeable to said 'deal'.

However, he wasn't completely sure of his human sexual prowess. His capability as a vampire had never been a problem, but this very human body he was now dealing with had limitations he wasn't used to. He didn't want to ruin such a momentous event by not living up to either of their expectations. _Maybe he should make it three days._

Beth's spirit sagged. _A couple of days?_ She did not want to wait a couple of days to see him. She reached for her purse in the passenger seat and made a quick switch to her other ear with the phone so she could open the car door.

"Umm…sure. Sure. A couple of days would be fine." The man rummaging around in the van turned around at the sound of her car door closing and looked at her quizzically. She raised her hand and waggled it at him. "You'll call me then?" she spoke into the phone.

"Yeah. I'm glad you liked the flowers, Beth. I'll get back with you, ok?" He was amazed at his good fortune in her acquiescence. It was so out of character for her.

"OK. Talk to you soon, then?"

"Yeah, soon. Bye." Hmmm…maybe too out of character.

Perhaps she _only_ wanted dinner. Perhaps the rest of the evening's entertainment he'd planned was not as interesting to her while he was human. Maybe she wanted the vampire and not him. He closed his eyes and lowered his head onto the heel of his hand. Why was he making this so complicated? Being human was supposed to have simplified everything. When he was a vampire he worried about not being human enough for her. And now that he was human he was worried about not being vampire enough for her. He was making himself crazy.

"Bye," she answered before clicking her phone closed.

_Soon my ass, Mr. St. John. You're not getting off the hook that easily_. Something was not right. She knew a brush off when she heard one.

She looked up the height of the building she was parked beside to see Mick's penthouse apartment perched at the top.

"Hey," Beth walked around the front of her car to speak with the fellow at the back of the van. He now had two boxes balanced on his left arm and was attempting to close the van doors.

"Is this an order from Mick St. John?" she asked as she approached him.

"Not from him. We're catering some meals to him from Kostan Industries." He looked her over appraisingly.

"Really? Kostan Industries?" She raised her hand to point up at the building. "I was just going up to see Mr. St. John. Mind if we share the elevator? You know, I've heard good things about…" she glanced at the name on the van… "Angel City Catering." She smiled brilliantly. "Here, let me help." She closed the doors to the van and kept up the friendly chatter as the man repositioned his packages and they headed into the building.

If food was being delivered to Mick then he was home. He might not answer his door to her but if she arrived at the same time as his dinner she could at least get into his apartment long enough to find out what was up. If subtle didn't work then she'd try the direct approach. She could do direct. As a matter of fact she was very good at it.

There was more than one way to snare an ex-vampire, and she'd try them all if she had to.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Max took one last deep drag off of his cigarette and flipped the butt across the alley. He hadn't intended to watch Beth's apartment. After his meeting with Davis his day had definitely gone south and he had found himself at the pert little blonde's apartment building as if his car had guided itself.

Fuck that prick Davis. He should have known he'd never get anywhere with the police. What had they ever done but screw him anyway? Even Lindsey wanted something in return for the 'favor' he'd granted Max. Running a tail on St. John and taking a few photos in return for getting his license re-instated after that little bitch had filed a charge against him for harassment sounded like a sweet deal. The extra cash hadn't hurt either. But then Lindsey had gotten himself killed and all Davis had given him was a kick in the ass for his efforts.

He reached into his jacket pocket for the treasure he had placed there earlier in the day. The panties revealed themselves to his searching, tobacco-stained fingers and he forcefully massaged their silkiness. They were a talisman keeping him centered and focused. Calming his nerves.

His fingers worked the material in his pocket more slowly as he controlled his breathing and released his shoulders from the hunch they had taken on from thinking about his curt dismissal from the police station.

Seeing a car speed past him, with his little blonde headed beauty driving, surprised him. But not as much as the relief he felt. Now he could slip in and find the soothing comfort he knew would be waiting in the rooms she frequented. All the tension ran out of him and he released the fabric in his pocket from the twisted knot his fingers had worked it into. Through her door he could find the power that would steady him. Touching the items she handled every day would allow him the contact he was starting to crave without frightening her. He'd back off long before that happened again.

**A/N--So…Carl's taking Mick History 101; Beth is basically NOT staying in the car again; Max is sniffing around at Beth's; Josef is probably at work making a few million dollars before lunch; and Mick would really just like a sandwich and a nap. Would you say that just about summarizes it folks?**

**If you scrolled down to this before you read the chapter, then shame on you. If you read the chapter first then: Congratulations! You have been chosen to write a quick review of this chapter. Please do not exceed 500 words. You may now press the button to receive your major award. My gratitude.**


	18. The Hollenbeck

Chapter 18

**A sadness descends upon me at the thought of the upcoming anniversary of Moonlight's premier. May it live on in the stories of the wonderful writers of FanFiction and continue to entertain the readers who remember it. If I owned Moonlight we would be watching it unfold a second glorious season. Since I don't, I'll satisfy myself to expanding on it's storyline with absolutely no expectation of remuneration.**

Chapter 18- The Hollenbeck

Before paying a visit to Bobby Desmond, Carl wanted to check out the Hollenbeck Bar. He didn't like, or trust, Max Stang. However, the information he'd supplied about Mick being at the Hollenbeck on the same night Carl and his team were chasing shadows at the Compos was too compelling to ignore.

Carl pulled into a far corner of the lot to get a broad view of the building and shifted his car into park.

The bar was on the outskirts of a worn down neighborhood of mobile homes and small wood frame houses that hadn't seen a new coat of paint in at least thirty years. The building presented a broad, squat appearance to the front. An assortment of wooden pallets, concrete retaining barriers and old tires leaned against the structure giving the impression that, without their support, the exterior walls might buckle. Hubcaps adorned the upper walls. At night they would, no doubt, nicely reflect the huge purple Christmas lights edging the roof, windows and doors. The large front window in the entryway had been boarded over with new plywood and bits and pieces of glass winked in the late afternoon sun from the gravel bed beneath it.

While the place might have appeared bright and lively after dark, the harsh light of day revealed the grimness of reality. It was a ramshackle building that should have been razed years ago. But, until fairly recently it seemed, it had served a purpose to someone.

At the moment it looked devoid of life. Carl glanced at his watch. It was just past 4:00 pm. Too early for the bar to be at full speed but there should still be a few people inside. There wasn't a bar in Los Angeles that was completely empty at this time of day but there were no other cars in the lot and he didn't see a soul moving inside.

He put the car into drive and moved slowly around the perimeter of the lot toward the back of the bar. A rusted out Chevy pick-up was parked next to the trash bins and the back door of the bar was propped open.

Carl pulled up next to the truck, shut off the car and got out. He walked around to the truck and peered over what was left of the tailgate. There was an assortment of five gallon buckets, a ladder and a few gardening tools tossed haphazardly into the bed. A quick look into the cab revealed a small tool box sitting on the floor and a pair of work gloves and the morning newspaper in the passenger seat.

He turned his attention to the building. The room beyond the open door loomed in darkness. Carl approached it and called into the black hole.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

When there was no answer he stepped just inside the door and allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness before calling out again.

"Hello?!" The room felt close around him. The sound of his voice was dampened by rows of barely discernable shelving and a low ceiling.

He heard the voice from his right before he saw the man materialize from the shadows.

"Bar's closed," the man said flatly.

He was a good head shorter than Carl and was powerfully built. Carl guessed him to be in his late sixties but saw he still had arm and chest muscles that spoke of a life of physical labor.

"So it would seem," Carl replied cautiously. "Do you work here?" Now that his eyes were fully adjusted to the dim light he could see they were standing in some kind of supply room. Rolls of paper towels and toilet paper were stacked on the shelf beside his head.

"I clean up and fix things." Carl could hear a strong Hispanic accent in the man's words now.

"Like the window out front?" Carl asked.

"Yes." The man looked Carl over, taking note of his light brown suit, neatly pressed trousers and polished, but worn, dress shoes. He missed the description of the usual clientele at the bar by a country mile. So the next logical choice would be… "You the police?" he asked, looking Carl directly in the eyes.

"Yes. Lt. Davis, LAPD." Carl shifted his suit jacket aside so the badge clipped to his belt showed. Neither man moved while they assessed each other.

"Miguel Rodriguez," the older man said, evidently reaching a decision about Carl. He extended a thick fingered, calloused hand as he introduced himself.

Carl shook the pro-offered hand. Both men relaxed somewhat but Carl could still feel an air of wariness. He couldn't fault the man. The police were seldom welcomed into these neighborhoods. If at all possible they were avoided and if not, they were reluctantly tolerated.

"Looks like there was quite a fight here recently." Carl pointed past him to the door he thought lead to the bar. "Window broken and the place closed down? What happened?"

"They are afraid. No one will come back now." Rodriguez paused and let his eyes roam over the rough interior of the room. "They may as well burn this place down. You should have come to get Tejada before _he _came for him."

The name rang in Carl's ears like a bell and his attention ratcheted into high gear. It was the first time in close to a week, that he'd talked with anyone who would even say the name.

"Tejada was here!? Who came for him?" Rodriguez didn't answer and Carl didn't want to lose this opportunity. He couldn't afford to scare him off with his usual direct interrogation style.

He forced himself to lean away from Rodriguez and relax his posture. Thinking about the chant that Bustos had kept repeating to Carl's questions regarding Tejada's whereabouts, he decided to interject it into this conversation.

Hoping the smile he'd plastered on his face looked more sincere than it felt, he asked, "Did 'El Diablo' take him away?"

Rodriguez snorted and shook his head.

"It's hot in here," he said. "Let's step out into the air." He moved past Carl and drew a red kerchief from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. Carl followed him, leaving behind the sauna of the storage room and running the back of his hand across his forehead. The wind was freshening and even though it was still hot, the air movement outside felt cool on his skin.

"El Diablo did not come here that night. It was The Angel con Venganza." Rodriguez said the words reverently. "Tejada was a cancer." He spat on the floor. "He ate up all the good in people and left them with filth and disease."

"Did you see the fight? When the…the angel came?" Carl asked. He was trying to temper his enthusiasm. What he really wanted to do was to sit the stout old Mexican down and shoot questions at him with the full expectation of quick and sure answers. _Take it slow. Take it slow and keep smiling, damnit!_

"Most of it. It was late. Not many people were left. My grand daughter, Reina?" He glanced quickly at Carl then back out over the horizon. "She was still here. Tejada had her dancing on the stage like a puta. She wanted to quit but she was afraid of him. She said he told her he would hurt me if she quit working for him. What kind of man scares young girls like that, huh?" He turned back to Carl. His face contorted with angry disgust.

Carl knew exactly what type of man would do that and Tejada fit the bill perfectly. When Carl didn't answer, Rodriguez went on.

"I come to take her home every night. I got here early and started cleaning since it was so empty. When _he_ came in everyone knew-he didn't belong. He went to the bar and that's when they started fighting. I grabbed Reina off the stage, gave her the keys and told her to drive home." He wiped his face once more with his kerchief and then shoved the wad of material into his back pocket.

"Why didn't you go to?" Carl asked, allowing his smiling facade to fade into his more natural earnest expression.

Rodriguez's eyes narrowed and his lips curled in a mirthless smile. "Because I knew Tejada's time had come…and I wanted to watch. When they started shooting though, I got scared and ran to the back. I hid behind the door in the store room that leads to his office. When The Angel started talking I peeked through the crack of the door to watch."

"Did you see this…angel? Could you identify him?" Carl's voice was tight with control now. _A witness. He had a witness! _Whatever angels were watching over him today he promised to thank them profusely later.

"I saw him. He was fierce. He fought the men in the bar. He flew to the ceiling and was so fast the bullets missed him. When he spoke it was like a man's voice, until he became angry. And then it was the roar of a lion. If you find such a creature, you don't need me to tell you it's The Angel. You'll know."

Carl felt his excitement of finding a witness, wither. The man obviously believed the story he'd just told. However, Carl couldn't very well go looking for The Angel of Vengeance even it this was the City of Angels.

"Did you see Tejada leave with this…creature?" Carl asked.

"Tejada did not leave with The Angel. The Angel _took_ him, screaming like a woman and bleeding from his throat." He jerked his open hand in front of his neck. "The Angel broke out the wall and carried the bastard away like he weighed no more than a child. That is the strength of vengeance!" With his fire burned away he shrugged in indifference. "Then they were gone. I only hope that The Angel did not kill him quickly."

"Do you think he's dead?" asked Carl. He was carefully watching Rodgriguez's reactions as well as listening to his words. He'd interrogated a lot of people and could smell when someone was lying to him even if he didn't know what the lie was. Had this not been such an outlandish tale he would have sworn the guy was telling the truth.

"Tejada had much to atone for. The Angel con Venganza did not appear to be in a merciful mood that night." Rodriquez smiled grimly.

Carl shook his head. "Why didn't you call the police?" he asked.

But he knew the answer before he'd asked the question. Tejada's Law 101. Do as you're told or your wife will be killed; or your daughter. He gave Rodriguez a sidelong glance. Or your granddaughter.

"She's all I have left," Rodriguez said thickly as if in response to Carl's unspoken thought. "I wouldn't risk her just to call you. But," he turned to face Carl, "I wouldn't call you just to save him."

Carl straightened, rested his hands on his hips and looked out at the same unknown point on the horizon that Rodriguez now seemed to be contemplating.

What a mess. Tejada was missing and the only witness he could find told a story right out of _Tales from the Crypt_!

_God-damned Angel of Vengeance my ass!_

He sighed heavily and looked down at his shoes, studying the lines of fine dust settling in the creases. Rodriguez stood rigidly beside him, quietly waiting for his next move.

"Shit," Carl said and scuffed the toe of his shoe across the ground sending a shower of gravel flying in front of him.

"I want to see Tejada's office," Carl declared abruptly.

Rodriguez nodded once and turned to head back into the bar. Carl waited just a moment longer before following him through the door.

"Is this where you hid?" Carl asked as they crossed the threshold from the store room to the office. He could see that there was more than enough room for a man to stand behind the door and the angle was such that the far end of the room would be clearly visible if you were looking between the door and the jamb.

Rodriguez silently nodded and moved into the room. "The Angel broke down the door and kicked the desk. It pinned Tejada to the wall over there."

Carl eyed the metal office door leaning against the wall with its hinges twisted off and the center panel crumpled. He would say that 'broke down the door' was somewhat of an understatement in describing how it had last been opened.

He stepped to the massive oak desk and ran his hand over the smoothness. It was flipped over on its back and angled away from the splintered hole in the wall, its drawers facing up. He pulled up on the molding around the exposed bottom of the desk. The wood dug into his palm and flexed slightly, but the desk did not budge. He pushed against it with his hip with similar results. If it were emptied it would probably still take two men to move it. One man could not have possibly kicked it across the room.

He turned to inspect the wall behind him. He could see where the corner of the desk had impacted. The wood paneling inside was broken and the outer siding was punctured. Only the placement of the wall stud had prevented the mammoth piece of furniture from exploding into the side lot.

It appeared that it had been shoved back and tipped over when The Angel, or whatever the hell it was, broke through the wall and hauled Tejada out. There was a man sized hole that had been covered from the outside with plywood. No doubt by the industrious Mr. Rodriguez. The interesting part was that, here, the two by four stud had been snapped in the middle and the unconnected ends were hanging loosely into the room.

He glanced back at the overturned desk. He supposed that whatever had destroyed the door and then moved and tipped the desk over would have had enough strength to break a two by four easily enough.

"You said Tejada was bleeding?" Carl said over his shoulder. "Did your Angel have a weapon? A knife maybe?" He circled back around the desk and squatted in front of it. He thought he could see several large drops of blood that had started to run when the desk was upended. But he'd have to have a forensics team come in to be sure. He'd bet there were prints on the desk and the broken wall stud as well. He might have hit pay dirt after all.

"There was no knife," Rodriguez answered. He looked uncomfortable with Carl probing around in the office.

Carl pulled his phone out and punched in a speed dial number. While it was ringing he turned to Rodriguez. He did not, at this point, want a formal statement from the man. He'd let the forensics team work their magic, see what they came up with and then deal with Rodriguez and his angel story if it became necessary.

Carl pointed at him with his free hand. "I'm going to have a team here in about 30 minutes. I want your contact info so I can reach you if I need to. So stick around but stay out of the building."

Rodriguez nodded and backed out of the room while Carl gave orders over the phone for a forensics team to be dispatched. As he stood beside his truck he wondered if angels had fingerprints.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Mick was drowsing while sitting on the stairs. He hadn't moved since he'd finished talking with Beth. His forehead was resting in one hand and the phone held loosely in the other. Which is probably why he dropped it when the pounding on his door startled him and brought him fully awake.

Taking a deep breath he retrieved the phone from between his bare feet and slowly stood. The door spoke again in a rhythm of beats reminiscent of "Shave and a Haircut" and he found himself muttering "two-bits' as he crossed the distance to the camera screen to see who was seeking entry into his home now.

A young man in white with boxes balanced on one arm stood less than sixteen inches from him on the other side of the door. Josef's caterer! His stomach rumbled in anticipation of whatever culinary delights might be in those boxes. Sleep was suddenly no longer his fondest desire.

He opened the door briskly realizing only afterward that he wasn't dressed and probably presented a charming sight to the caterer in his half open robe and lounging pants. He didn't look at the man though. His senses were tuned to the rapturous smells coming from the boxes.

"Mr. St. John? I'm Dennis from Angel City Caterers. I have a dinner for you courtesy of Kostan Industries." The man standing before him looked ill, or hurt, or maybe both.

"Mmmhhmm," Mick replied. Yes, he was definitely more hungry than tired right now.

He noticed Dennis look slightly to his right and a small peal of warning vibrated through him. He would have normally been more wary and alert when opening his door. He would have taken a quick look down the hall for signs that there were others in the hallway but his guard was down. He'd have to get back on top of his game, and soon. Mistakes could be costly. Especially in his current condition. He leaned toward the open doorway to peer down the hall just as another person stepped into view, holding a bottle of wine.

"Beth?" The name fell out of his mouth in astonishment. He looked down at his phone and then back at her, piecing the last minute of their conversation together with her sudden appearance in his doorway.

She noticed his state of undress. "So. Are you going to bed early or waking up late?" she asked a little sharply.

Mick was speechless. He stood helplessly trying to get his thoughts into some kind of order so that he could respond. He was sure there was some kind of clever comeback but his mind couldn't find it at the moment. His mouth opened and closed several times and he looked from Beth to Dennis as if to enlist his help in the awkward situation.

"Mr. St. John? Are you alright, sir? You don't look…well." This was an understatement. The guy was looking worse the longer he stood there. Letting the blonde come up with him had not been a good idea. She was as flushed as the man before him was pale. He hoped he didn't lose his job over this little episode. Clients could be very touchy about things.

"I…I've…" Mick looked back at Beth.

"…been ill," Beth filled in for Mick. "That's why Kostan is providing his meals. Important client you know." She smiled sweetly wanting to turn to face the man in white at her side but not able to take her eyes off the partially disrobed man in front of her.

"Sir, would you like me to come in and set up the meal for you?" Dennis asked, hoping desperately that the answer would be 'no'. The woman spoke again. St. John seemed to be unable to respond.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll just take it." She handed Mick the wine bottle and took the boxes from Dennis.

When his hands were free he looked relieved but lingered to ask another question.

"What time would you like breakfast sir? We have it scheduled for 8:30 if that works for you."

Again, the blond answered.

"That will be fine. Thank you."

Then she squeezed past him and closed the door as he was making his retreat down the hall toward the elevator.

Mick still stood near the door with the wine bottle in his hand and the scent of his dinner wafting past him. He closed his eyes and sniffed the air to get the full effect and was rewarded with a growl from his stomach.

He might have some explaining to do with Beth but he intended to do it over dinner. Even if it wasn't the dinner he'd planned for them.

**a/n- So Carl has some startling information that he's not quite ready to believe. But he's going to have to reconcile some facts. He's coming close to crossing that boundary that we passed each time we watched a new episode. It's just harder for a dyed in the wool police detective to acknowledge the existence of…Angels. **

**I added a little Mick and Beth this chapter. I was going to save them for later but thought I'd give you a treat. You've been so good and Carl can be so tedious! So…dinner is on! If you want to now what's on the menu that is NOT in the box…better press that review button. Creativity craves comments!**


	19. The Law of Reciprocity

**Disclaimer- No infringement intended. Moonlight is not mine but if no one else wants it…..**

**a/n- There is a forum I frequent on the website called Daily Gratuitous Alex Pics (Rated R). On this site the avid fans adore and revel in all things Alex. While I don't often comment I check in at least once a day to see what these inspired people have left for me to peruse. Recently there was a thread regarding those fantastic white lounge pants that Mick wore while he was brushing his teeth and drinking OJ and coffee in his apartment. While I admired them when I first saw them in the show, the photos on this site showed me that I had not even begun to appreciate the true appeal of this garment and how well he wore it...or barely wore it. After that I kept seeing him in them while I was writing this chapter and had to include a little blurb from Beth. I'm sure she feels the same awe I experienced! Never had I thought there could be that much space between a belly-button and the waist band of a pair of pants!**

**If they read this, a big thank you to Nana, Dusk2Dawn, Darlingcat, Raven and all the others, who go to the trouble to post these pics. And to Patrick for hosting the site. On the days the muse sits sad and quiet, your comments and pics leave me warmed and ready to write. **

**And now…heeeeeere's MAX!**

Chapter 19-Law of Reciprocity

Max closed his eyes, leaned against the wooden door he'd just latched behind him and tipped his head back to listen. The unoccupied apartment was in a state of mid afternoon slumber. The mantel clock on the bookshelf was ticking its rhythm through the minutes with the refrigerator humming a motorized harmony softly in the background. Muted sounds from the world outside punctuated the melody at odd intervals.

He loved the soft, quiet comfort that Beth's apartment offered. He knew it was right the first time he'd set foot through the door. They were all different, of course. Some were dirty and squalid while others had been at the high end. But he liked the ones that felt warm and comfortable the best. The ones that felt more like a home.

He chose women who were single and living alone. Most never knew he had infiltrated their lives and homes. He furtively monitored their activities by reading calendars they kept on their refrigerators or desks. A meeting with a parole officer for one. Lunch with mom for another. Appointments with their gynecologists, psychiatrists or AA groups. Hell, if they kept track he even knew the days of their menstrual cycle. He knew more about them than their parents or boyfriends. His intimacy was unrequited by the fact that the women were unaware of his involvement in their lives. But _he_was always faithful. His ladies deserved his full and unadulterated attention.

The treasures he left them after each visit were less tangible than those he took with him. However, they created the web he used to sustain his interaction with them.

The TV remote would be moved from its usual place on the coffee table. The milk carton that was half full that morning was almost empty that night. The book they read before falling asleep had the marker placed in a page they'd read two nights before. Small personal items would suddenly disappear only to reappear days later in a different place.

They were small things that, when combined over time, undermined their self-confidence and security. No one wanted to think their home, their private castle and safety net from the evils of the world, had been violated. Better to think your memory had failed or you'd become absent minded. Anything rather than suspect a stranger had been moving stealthily through the place where you felt most safe and protected. Because things like that only happened to other people.

He released a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding and pushed off the door with his shoulders to propel himself into the living room.

"What the…?"

He gazed around the living room taking in the sight. There had to be over a thousand dollars worth of roses in the house. Elegant vases of them on the coffee table, the kitchen counter, even the fucking stove! He could see more in the bedroom nodding their heads in the slight breeze blowing in from a partially open window.

A knot formed in his throat and he wrinkled his nose as he exhaled sharply. The cloying scent was everywhere now that he'd noticed it. A thick veil of honeyed sweetness lay heavily in the rooms.

_Who? Who was treading on his territory? He had staked his claim. This was his property until he decided it was over. And he had just begun! He was a long way from being finished with this one. _

He searched each arrangement for a card but only managed to break a few petals from the roses for his trouble.

_There had to be cards. No one sent flowers without some kind of card. What could she have done with them? Where did she put them?_

His eyes darted around the small apartment while he tried to keep from breathing deeply of the odor. It was no longer sweet smelling but filled his lungs like a noxious gas. His dominance was threatened. His world was tilting wildly out of control. And under all of it was a rising anger at the thought of someone daring to usurp his position.

He found nothing resembling cards in the front rooms of the apartment so he bolted through the bedroom door. There they were, tucked neatly into the frame of the dresser mirror. Selective words jumped off the white surfaces and burned their images into his mind. 'Loving you…'; 'desire…'; 'unity'. And each and every one was signed by Mick St. John.

The fucking bastard was trying to lay claim to his woman. It wasn't enough that son-of-a-bitch was undermining his business but now he'd stepped over the boundary into Max's private game. Hatred for the man swelled in his chest. His heart pounded loudly in his ears but his lungs seemed unable to expand, to draw breath. It seemed that everything wrong in his life right now could be laid at the doorstep of St. John. He'd probably even screwed things up with Davis earlier.

Max was incensed. His fingers curled tightly around the card he held in his hand until it disappeared in his sweaty palm. He felt an old familiar headache return to pulse just behind his right eye, causing small pinpoints of light to occlude his vision. His free hand lifted to his face to feel tears dribbling from the corner of his eye and down his cheek, the result of the ice-pick stabbing into his brain and the frustration at the unfairness of life. St. John had it all and was still trying to steal what little Max had.

Max had dealt with other men in the past who had thoughtlessly become involved with his ladies. Over the years he'd planted false evidence against a couple of them and they were currently serving sentences for crimes they hadn't committed. Of course, they'd committed a lot of others they hadn't been caught for so Max considered it to be justice served.

With a few of the women he'd tired of them before their men had made much of an intrusion into his time with them. But last year there was one he hadn't been ready to let go of yet.

The guy involved had an unfortunately squeaky clean record. Max had to have more than a couple of parking tickets to work with if he was going to try to send a man to prison. But he'd finally caught him leaving his house late one night and decided to try to convince him of the error of his ways. The guy wasn't much of a fighter and Max had caught him by surprise. The man had lain comatose for three weeks before finally having the decency to kick off.

Max had read the obit in the paper. And as he read it, all the exhilaration and power he'd felt as he'd beaten the man with an iron bar, came back. The high from reliving it was almost as strong as the night it happened. He hadn't had to sleep for days and when he'd finally crashed, it had been into a deep rest, free from guilt and dreams.

Oh yeah. He'd handle St. John. He wasn't about to let him encroach on what he considered to be private property now. St. John was slightly younger and taller than he was but he had seen him after that mugging in the alley. The cocky PI obviously couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. He probably spent most of his time using fancy electronic surveillance equipment from that Benz of his instead of busting his hump out on the streets with good old fashioned footwork.

Caught off guard, at night and without a weapon, Mick St. John would not stand a ghost of a chance against him. There was more than one aspect to this particular game that he was going to enjoy. The attentions of one blonde haired reporter might be the dessert to the main entrée, which would be the early demise of her smart-assed PI wannabe lover.

Max felt the steel band around his chest relax as he settled on his plan of action. He looked up into the mirror at his grinning reflection, nodded and watched his image respond in kind.

He could no longer smell the reek of roses in Beth's apartment. Instead, the air held the sweet scent of retribution.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Beth walked through Mick's living room with the boxes of food.

"I love what you've done with the place," she said sarcastically over her shoulder.

His normal house-keeping habits leaned toward excessively tidy. But now, the apartment looked disheveled. The furniture appeared to have been shifted carelessly together. A crumpled blanket and loose throw pillows piled at one end of the sofa showed he was still sleeping on it and there was a dirty glass with a dish towel thrown over it on one end table.

He seemed to be taking advantage of his ability to eat again though. The coffeemaker was on but she only saw a single, half-empty cup on the counter next to a tray of various flavored muffins and what appeared to be miniature quiche tarts.

This was comforting. One glass and one cup would seem to indicate one person present in the apartment during the afternoon. When she first saw him at the door, clad in his pajama bottoms at 6:30 in the evening, a blaze of jealousy flared. But, so far as she could tell, sowing his wild, human oats had not been on his afternoon agenda. She felt a little foolish, but a lot relieved.

She set the boxes down on the counter next to several bottles of flavored water, which bore labels from the same catering service, and wondered briefly why Josef would be sending food to Mick.

Turning back toward the room she let out a small gasp as she saw the broken wall and bent stair railing leaning precariously out over the room below. Plaster dusted the stairs and the floor below as if a small snow-storm had blown into the room.

"Mick, what happened?"

He was still standing by the door, his phone in one hand and the other holding the wine bottle by the neck. With his lounge pants perched tantalizingly low on his hips and his robe still partially open, he presented a visual smorgasbord for her.

She watched as he closed his eyes and tilted his head in a motion she had seen him make time and time again at crime scenes. His nostrils flared delicately trying to catch the scent that would give him the information he was searching for.

His eyes opened and traced the room until finally resting on her. With slow and deliberate steps he advanced. The impression was that a large, predatory cat was approaching and she involuntarily stepped back several paces, the hair on her arms and neck prickling to urge her to prepare to defend herself if necessary.

Now that she had an unobstructed view and time to appraise him, she was even more concerned. Though for which one of them she wasn't sure yet. Dark smudges under his eyes accented the paleness beneath the sun-kissed color he'd developed over the past days. He looked unwell. He looked…

"Mick? Are you-_dead?-_alright?" She tried to keep the note of panic out of her voice but didn't think she was successful.

As Mick drew closer to her she saw his gaze was directed to the boxes of food she'd carried in.

He sniffed the air again for the fragrances drifting from them. "Bread," he whispered. There was a comforting smell of fresh baked bread and layered just beneath it some kind of rich meaty aroma.

He laid his cell phone on the counter so that he could break the seal on one box. The lid popped open unmasking a cornucopia of succulent aromas. It brought to his mind more than food. Waves of nostalgia flooded over him with memories of home-cooked dinners eaten at the kitchen table with his family. Everyone talking at once after grace had been said. All anxious to be the first to tell the stories and events of their day.

"Mmmm." His tongue washed over his lower lip and lingered on the one swollen corner, massaging it gently.

Keeping her eyes on him, Beth stepped forward and peeked under the box lid.

"It's meatloaf," she said, unimpressed.

"Yes. Yes it is." Mick looked up at her. He was smiling but his eyes were very tired. "I just remembered. I love meatloaf."

He took a good look at her. Anger he was prepared to deal with but he didn't understand the trace of fear he saw in her eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just that you look…" She let her eyes rove over him. His face was strained and tired. His lip was swollen. Had he fallen from the stairs? Maybe he'd forgotten his limitations as a human and tried one of his vampiric acts of acrobatics.

Then she saw the deep bruising down the side of his neck. She reached out, touched his cheek and put just enough pressure on it to turn his head away from her.

Realizing what she had seen he reached for her hand, cupped it in his own and drew it to his chest.

"Who…" her voice gave away as she studied the brutal appearance of the wound. He had fang marks on his throat. At his happiest and most vulnerable time, some fucking vampire had bitten him and returned him to being what he most despised. That had to be the explanation for him not returning her calls and trying to stall her from seeing him. The destruction in his apartment showed there had been a fight of some sort. He had intimated that there were others in the vampire community who might not see the compound in the same way as he did. That they might find it to be a threat.

Anger rose in her. He deserved better. Whoever it was that took this time from him, from them both, she would find the beast and slaughter it herself. Van Helsing would look like Little Red Riding Hood next to her.

"Coraline? Was it Coraline?" she demanded hoarsely, looking into his eyes for confirmation. If Coraline had managed to come back to hurt him again then the next stake she stabbed into his ex-wife's chest would be silver, and she'd follow it up with a blow-torch to burn the bitch into ashes.

Mick watched the progression of emotions cross Beth's face. The anger he thought was originally directed at him had been replaced by a look of fear. But this hard, killing look of outrage, now on her lovely face, was not something he'd ever seen before.

"Who. Did. This. To you?" Her voice was low and the words uttered through clenched teeth. Her blue eyes sparked with fire as they bore into his questioning ones. He could feel her strength and determination vibrate through her arm and into the hand he held next to him and was astonished that such power came from the petite human body. She extracted her hand from his and softly ran her fingers along his neck, tracing the edge of the black bruise and hovering over the two puncture marks in its center.

"Beth, it's not what you think. This…" he raised his hand to join hers but she grasped it and pulled it down so that she could continue to inspect the damaged tissue. "This was an accident. It wasn't intentional…" he thought quickly back to Josef's attack and allowed a shadow of doubt to cross his features, "…exactly."

She huffed in response, obviously discounting his attempt to relieve her of a misplaced impression.

"There was some…miscommunication."

"Miscommunication?" she asked incredulously. She scrutinized his face, looking at each cut and scratch before returning to his neck.

"It's not healing," she said sternly. "If you're a vampire shouldn't it be healing?"

"Is that what you think?" he asked. "That I've been turned?" He hadn't considered this particular train of thought from her. But, he supposed it made sense from her current point of view.

"I want to know, Mick! I want to know who turned you back!" She was going to refuse to let him sidestep this.

He couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. She was being protective of him. Given the opportunity he thought she might actually bring Josef to task for having to audacity to bite him. The look this would bring to Josef's face would be priceless and brought a chuckle of laughter.

"I haven't been turned, Beth." He set the wine down and took her by both shoulders to bring her square in line with him. When he had her attention he brushed his palms up the sides of her neck, stretched his fingers back into her hair and placed a thumb on each cheek.

"Feel it? I'm warm, Beth. I'm still human." He stared into her determined features and watched them slowly dissolve. The fierceness was working its way out of her system through the tears forming in each blue eye. He stroked her cheeks softly with his thumbs, her face just inches from his own. "Okay?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

She could feel the heat on her face from his hands and reached up to caress his fingers. "I thought…the way you were sniffing the air…and you have such dark circles under your eyes. It's like before you changed…" she drew in her bottom lip, embarrassed to admit she had jumped to such a wrong conclusion so easily.

The smile left his face, his brows knitting together in a frown. He hadn't realized he'd done it but apparently she had seen him work a scent from across the room.

"Was that why you were afraid? You thought I'd been turned and was scenting you?" She didn't need to answer. That he had caused her to be afraid of him, for even a moment, appalled him. That she had shown such fierce protectiveness of him in spite of it, amazed him.

"Beth, I could never hurt you. Never!" Impulsively he kissed her forehead and drew her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. How ironic that the only time she had ever perceived him to be a threat to her was while he was human.

Her fingers gripped the smooth silk of his robe at his neck and she rubbed her cheek against the hair on his chest. This was home. This was contentment. It was all that was right in the world. To stand here within his arms. Of course he could never hurt her. Just as she could never hurt him. To harm the other would be like committing suicide.

She turned her head to allow her lips to brush the patch of hair on his chest that her cheek had just stroked but he released her, took both of her hands in his and brought them to his lips to kiss the ends of her fingers.

"I'm sorry I frightened you," he said. "I can't smell things like I did before but I guess the movements are pretty ingrained after fifty-plus years." He smiled uncertainly down at her. "Forgive me?"

She pursed her lips and chuckled. "Yeah. If you forgive me for acting like a jealous schoolgirl."

He looked confused and narrowed his eyes at her. "Jealous schoolgirl? Wait…I think I missed that part."

"It's just as well. It wasn't very attractive," she said, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose.

He gestured at the kitchen counter. "Well, since you're here, would you like to have dinner with me? I just happen to have some delicious meatloaf. Practically fresh out of the oven."

"Only if you promise to tell me about…" she darted her eyes to his neck and ran her finger up and down her own.

"Ah. Yeah, you really should hear the whole story." He widened his eyes for emphasis.

"Oh, and one more thing," she added. He'd started digging around in the boxes and she watched as a lone curl of hair separate from the others and draped over his injured eyebrow. _How could one lock of hair look so seductive? _

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. I don't think I scared you bad enough to warrant two promises. I _am_ serving meatloaf after all. Oh, and potatoes…" he said enthusiastically, lifting the cover from the dish. "…with…green things in them." He sniffed at the dish, nodded approvingly and set it on the counter.

"But you already said you'd do this." She laced her fingers together to resist the temptation to tuck the errant curl back with the others. "I get to see where you sleep when you're a vampire." She grinned as he raised his head.

He shifted his weight to one foot and handed her a container of fresh fruit. "You want to see my 'lair'?" he smirked.

"Lair? Is that what you really call it?" she asked. She found the term rather disturbing. She set the fruit beside the 'potatoes with green things in them' and lifted her shoulders in a little shudder.

He saw her lip turn up. Reminiscent of when he had suggested to her so many months ago, that some people actually found vampires attractive.

"No. I heard that in a movie. It sounds kind of creepy, huh?" He unfolded the empty box and set the next one down on top of it. "Do you want to lay down in it?" he offered.

"In it?" A bit of worry crept into her voice and Mick allowed himself a quick glance up at her face. "Would…would that be okay?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I don't think it breaks any vampire union rules. You bring a jacket?"

"No." She'd lost track of what he was handing to her. The image of a casket in a dark, cold cellar reappeared in her mind. The words 'in it' echoing in her mind. He'd definitely said 'in it'. Not 'on it'.

"Guess you'll have to wear one of mine then. So, how about this?" He placed both hands on the counter and ran through the evening's schedule of events. We eat. We talk about…" he ran one finger alongside his neck and they both nodded in agreement. "I shower and get dressed. Then we look at my 'lair'. Sound good?" He looked at her for approval.

"Great!" she replied, much less enthusiastic than she had been only moments ago.

"Then we'll discuss what kind of promise you'll make to me." He started to dismantle the second box.

She came back to the conversation suddenly. "I haven't promised you anything," she said.

"I know. I give you two promises and a meatloaf dinner. I get something in return. Law of reciprocity." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"What if I don't like the meatloaf?" she countered.

"You're still coming out ahead of the game with two promises." He winked at her.

Her mouth was suddenly dry and she felt a flush rising in her cheeks. She could only hope he'd ask her to promise what she was already willing to give him, and the meatloaf be damned.

**a/n-Ah yes! The Law of Reciprocity. I give you something…you give me something. Tit for tat so to speak! And it appears that Beth is left owing. What do you suppose Mick has in mind to clear up that account of hers? I think Josef would even be proud of Mr. St. John for such clever negotiations.**

**Speaking of the Law of Reciprocity…I have given you something in the form of a chapter. Now it is your turn to reciprocate and give me something in the form of a review. See how this works? You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours! You do want to find out what he's going to ask for don't you?! **


	20. The Sins of the Father

**Disclaimer: No infringement intended. I'm just playing around here and would invite others to join me in the sandbox!**

**A/N-Now, you see…when you start asking questions, you've got to be prepared that the answers you get might not be the ones you expected. **

Chapter 20-The Sins of the Father

The coffee cup in Carl's hands was comforting to hold even if the liquid itself was almost undrinkable. Age had not improved Bobby's ability to make coffee nor Carl's ability to stomach his attempts. But the making of it was a good way to break the ice formed from the passing of the two years since they had last sat together. When he was younger, after his dad had died, Bobby had been almost like a father to him. He couldn't believe he'd let so much time slip away without getting in touch with him.

"Here, try one of these." Bobby slid a plate of homemade cookies onto the kitchen table and then seated himself across from Carl. Not hearing Carl move he took one for himself and pushed the plate toward his guest. "Go ahead. They're good!" He smiled and gazed distantly over Carl's head with sightless eyes.

"And when did you start baking cookies?" Carl asked with a smile. He took one and broke it apart. Oatmeal and raisin. His mom used to make them and he and Bobby would eat a whole dozen between the two of them before being told to leave some for the rest of the family.

"I didn't. But Miss Estelle, down the hall in apartment 2B? She does. She knows they're my favorite. Brings some down a couple of times a week." Bobby grinned broadly and leaned conspiratorially closer to Carl. "I think she's sweet on me," he whispered and then wheezed a soft laugh.

Carl chuckled and shook his head. He took a bite of the cookie and thought it made the coffee more palatable.

"So what brings you to my neck of the woods, Carl?" asked Bobby cheerily. He leaned back in his chair and took a drink from his mug.

"Bobby…" Carl started. "I'm sorry I haven't been around. I should have come over to see how you were doing. I can't believe it's been so long since…

"Now, don't be talking like that!" Bobby waved his hand dismissively. "You got your own life and your work. It's only natural. I've been doin' fine. That's just the way it works. Time gets away from you sometimes. Don't be feelin' guilty over it. But I would guess you didn't come all the way over here just to apologize. Is something wrong? Your brothers and sister, are they ok?"

Carl looked at Bobby's concerned face and watched his eyes track somewhere over his right shoulder.

"They're fine. And no. No, I didn't come over just to apologize. I came to ask some questions about someone you might have known when you were on the force." He saw Bobby's face tighten with interest.

"Ask away then. I'll bet there isn't more than a handful of cases that I couldn't recall for you. Which one is it about?" He straightened in his chair and wrapped both hands around the coffee cup.

"Do you remember a Mick St. John?" Carl asked.

"Mick?" Bobby replied forcefully. "Hell, yes I remember him. Good investigator. Good man. Why are you interested in Mick?"

"Actually, I'm interested in his son. He's involved in a case I'm working. I was checking out his background and it seemed a little weak. I thought you might remember something about the family." Carl was hoping that Bobby wouldn't press him on the details of the case.

"Uh-huh," came the indulgent reply. Carl thought that at this moment, Bobby had never looked less blind. His gaze was penetrating as he leaned forward over the table toward him. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that young ADA being shot to death would it?"

"Bobby, I can't…" Carl began.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, waving a hand in Carl's direction. "You can't talk about an ongoing investigation. I've used that line a time or two myself." He took a deep breath, exhaled and relaxed into his chair.

"Well, for starters, Mick doesn't have a son. Never married." Bobby shook his head for emphasis.

"Bobby, just because a man never married doesn't mean he might not have a son," Carl said gently.

"Don't patronize me!" Bobby snapped. "I've known Mick St. John for over thirty five years and he doesn't have any kids. Said he'd contracted some sort of virus when he was young and it left him sterile. You must be getting your information the same place as that little girl reporter that was here a few months ago.

"Girl reporter? Do you remember her name?" Carl asked sharply.

"Course I do! I'm not as senile as you might think! Beth Turner."

Carl cringed. Beth again. He swore the woman could ferret information out of a rock. What had drawn her to seek out Bobby?

"She was from some kind of Internet news show called BuzzWire," Bobby continued. "She showed up not long after Mick paid me a visit. He came here all lathered up about Lee Jay Spaulding getting out of jail. He figured Lee Jay had already found his next victim in that author woman who wrote his book. He'd always felt guilty about not being able to protect Lee Jay's first wife Eileen. We both knew Lee Jay killed her but we couldn't convince the DA. She was listed as a suicide." Bobby gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, Lee Jay set that one up real nice and neat."

Carl let the information filter through his brain. They couldn't possibly be talking about the same man. There had to be close to thirty years difference in their ages. And Mick's file had said his father was deceased.

"Bobby, the Mick St. John I know is about thirty, tall and lean, hazel eyes, brown hair."

Bobby nodded at the description. "That sounds like Mick except for the age. He's a just few years younger than I am. Always was on the thin side but tough as nails. I teased him about working out when he stopped by. The man still has muscles. He hasn't turned to flab like me." He patted his belly and Carl noticed there was still a lot more muscle on his frame than most men his age had.

"Hmmph," Carl grunted. "You make him sound like a boy scout. When did you start getting friendly with PIs anyway?" He thought of his own dealings with Mick. There was usually an invisible line drawn between the police and private investigators. Each side knew their place and what the boundaries were. But over the last year or so Mick had shifted back and forth across the line so many times that it was no longer clearly delineated. Josh had certainly put a lot of stock in the man, to a point where he was almost considered a member of the team.

"Mick likes for things to be…right. He likes to help people. He used to give me and your dad tips on cases. We had the highest arrest record in the precinct and a lot of it was due to his leads. He never steered us wrong. Thanks to him we put a lot dangerous men behind bars. He used to say, 'If you can't help people, then what's the point of living?' Besides your dad, the next man I'd trust with my life would be Mick St. John."

Carl had never considered that his father might have known Mick. That brought him up short.

"How well did dad know him?"

Bobby was silent for a long moment. "They were close," he said finally.

"So you and dad were close to him and you never, in all that time, got the feeling that maybe something wasn't quite what it should be?" Carl asked. He could tell his question had sent Bobby searching the dark dusty corners of his memory.

"Mick worked differently from any of the detectives I knew. Some of the leads he tipped to us," Bobby chuckled and shook his head, "I don't know how he found that stuff out. He'd tell us he overheard someone talking and drop a tip in our laps and the next thing we knew we were hauling in a big prize to the jail."

The memories were being dusted off and brought out into the light now. Bobby was warming to the telling of stories. He leaned his head back and stretched his legs out from his chair.

"I remember one time," he raised one finger pedantically the air. "We were trying to run down an armed robber who'd shot a store cashier. We'd lost the guy. Mick was in the neighborhood and joined in the chase. And there I was, walking along behind him, trying to decide which of a half a dozen ways to try, when he suddenly stood stock still. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, just so." Bobby cocked his head to the side and lifted his chin slightly. "It was like watching a wolf take up the scent of a lamb. God-damnedest thing I'd ever seen. Made the hair on the back of my arms stand up to watch him do that. A few seconds later he tells me to go down this little lane we'd already searched. I did and found the guy getting ready to break into a house. God only knows who he would have killed in there."

"So, he has ears like a bat and a nose like a bloodhound," Carl said gruffly. "His background is still weak and that makes me suspicious of what he doesn't want anyone to know." Carl rubbed his forehead and scowled. He'd lost track of which man they were discussing. The longer they talked the more the two blended, leaving only one 'Mick St. John' to span the years.

When there was no response to his brusque comment he looked up and saw Bobby's tightlipped countenance on the other side of the dinette table.

"Carl, I have another story to tell you…from a different night," Bobby said softly. "It's not one that's easy for an old cop like me to tell and probably won't be easy for a young one like yourself to hear. You and me? We deal with the evidence. Cut and dried. Black and white. Something either 'is' or it 'isn't'. There aren't supposed to be any in-betweens."

Carl felt a chill steal over him as Bobby spoke and a rush of adrenaline race through his veins. He had the impression he was standing on a precipice with one foot raised. He still had time to step back. He could stop Bobby from telling the story.

"Does this involve Dad?" Carl heard himself ask.

Bobby's head nodded. "And Mick. I think what happened that night is why they became…close."

Carl stepped off into the abyss.

"OK," he answered. "Tell me. What's the connection between Mick and my father."

Bobby leaned on the table top and placed his folded hands in front of him, almost in an act of penitence. He hadn't spoken to anyone about that night except Frank and that had been over thirty years ago. Even with Mick that night's events had never been brought up. For a long time after it happened he couldn't look Mick straight in the eyes because it would make him remember. And he didn't want to remember because he couldn't explain it. It didn't fit into his 'cops' view of the world. But he knew, as sure as he was sitting at his table with Carl across from him, that it _had_ happened. Somehow, the knowing of it still didn't make it any easier to understand.

"We'd been trying to find this little pervert who'd been grabbing young girls off the street," Bobby began. "He'd try to tear their clothes off but always stopped short of raping them. He never carried a weapon. Always used his hands to rough 'em up. None of the girls died or suffered any permanent damage."

Carl nodded and made an encouraging noise for Bobby to continue. He understood this type of the story. No permanent damage on the outside maybe. But, inside, the girls were broken. They'd have nightmares for years and when they were grown and married they'd have their husbands take out the garbage at night because they couldn't stand the idea of being alone in the dark back yard.

Bobby cleared his throat and gathered his words together to continue.

"Mick was evidently on his trail too. He came to us and told us to be careful. That he had information that the creep wasn't as harmless as we thought and might be armed. Well, we didn't believe him. But we should have."

"The last girl could ID the bastard. Patrick Simmons-early twenties. He'd been picked up for window-peeping several times when he was a teenager. So, your dad and me went out to pick him up."

_Los Angeles- Evening of August 19__th__, 1976_

_Frank looked up and down the street at the row of dilapidated homes. There wasn't much left of the neighborhood since the freeway had been built._

"_Christ! The noise alone would make you go nuts. How do people still live here?" He had to speak up to be heard over the roar of the traffic speeding up the on ramp to the interstate highway sixty feet above them._

_The two uniformed policemen climbed the wooden steps of the porch and approached the front door. All the windows seemed to be intact in this house, which was an improvement over its neighbors._

"_We can still call for another car," Bobby said. "Mick told us there's more to this guy than we've been told downtown."_

"_Come on Bobby! He's a pervert who likes to feel up young girls. He doesn't carry. Besides_, _everyone's been dispatched. You want to wait out here for an hour for back-up to haul in a groper?" Frank rested his hand on his weapon as he leaned his head to the edge of the front window and peered inside._

_The answer was that Bobby really didn't want to wait either. He knocked on the door with back of his knuckles. _

"_I'm going around back," Frank whispered as he started down the steps. _

_Bobby nodded his acknowledgement and banged harder on the door. "Patrick Simmons?! Police! We need to talk to you! Open the door!" Bobby heard the sound of running from the inside of the house. But it was moving away from him. Toward the back of the house, where Frank had gone. _

"_Son-of-a…Frank!" Bobby yelled as he started down the steps. "He's on the run! He's coming to you!"_

_Frank had checked a side entrance and was just clearing the back corner of the house as the rear door burst open and a young man with greasy blond hair jumped to the sidewalk leading to the garage at the back of the property. _

"_Hey!" Frank called out. "We just want to talk with you!"_

_Bobby had run up the opposite side of the house and come up behind Simmons. From his position he could see the gun the young man held in his hand. Frank couldn't._

_Simmons raised the gun and fired at Frank. The crack of the shot made Bobby wince and blink. In that split second there were now suddenly two people at the opposite end of the house. Frank was reaching for his weapon and Mick was standing in front of him facing Simmons. Bobby thought Mick looked like he was going to try to reason with the man. His hands extended in supplication._

_If that had been his intent, he never got a chance to speak. The bullet ripped into his chest and spun him around into Frank's arms, toppling them both to the ground. Bobby was on Simmons an instant later with his gun drawn._

"_Put your hands behind your head!! Get down!! Down on the ground!!" Bobby was screaming even as the man was obeying. He ran up to the prone figure and kicked the gun away at the same time he reached for his handcuffs._

_Frank lay on his back staring up into the darkening sky. He was pinned to the wet grass by Mick's inert body. Where the hell had he come from? He'd seen only a blur before the gun fired and Mick was flung into his arms._

_There was no movement from the body lying atop him. The head lolled next to Frank's ear as he struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked from his lungs when he hit the ground. There was no breath from Mick and his body was heavy and slack. Dead weight, Frank thought._

_He could feel liquid soaking through his shirt from between their bodies and start to run down his side. Finally catching his breath, he raised his hand to Mick's face. It was cool to his touch. The blood loss had to be massive._

_In the distance he heard Bobby frantically calling their names over and over but didn't have the power to respond. The weight of the body pressing against his own was nothing compared to the weight of regret bearing down on his conscience. Bobby had been right. They should have listened to Mick and called for back-up. But he'd had to play fucking Buck Rogers of the LAPD and now a good man was dead._

_He felt the tenseness in Mick's muscles before he heard the guttural sound made next to his ear. Arms that were limp in death, just a moment before, were now pushing against the ground trying to raise his body. They succeeded only in lifting his head and shoulders so that Frank could see the pale visage of Mick's face and silver eyes hovering a few inches above him. _

"_My god," Frank whispered. "What are you?"_

_Mick's eyes gradually darkened and the cadaverous appearance of his features faded. He looked into Frank's eyes with worry and concern._

"_Are you alright?" he questioned._

_Frank made an almost imperceptible nod and studied the face above him. He could feel the strength coming back into the body he would have sworn only seconds before was lifeless. _

"_We need to talk," Mick said seriously. "But let's take care of this guy first, OK?"_

_And again, Frank nodded. _

_Mick stood effortlessly and helped Frank to his feet. He pulled his coat closed and buttoned it up but not before Frank saw the gaping hole in his shirt and the flawless skin showing through it. It was so amazing that Frank actually reached out to touch the smooth, undamaged flesh of Mick's chest. He was stopped by the arrival of Bobby with the handcuffed Simmons in tow._

"_Are you two alright?" His voice was high pitched and brittle. "God-damn! I thought you were dead!" he said, not sure which man he meant._

_They both appeared to be fine but Frank's uniform was saturated with blood. "Did you get hit? Where'd all the blood come from?" he asked._

_Frank's power of speech seemed to be returning to him and he managed to get out a shaky "I'm OK." He saw Mick raise his bloodied hand to his face and swipe at his nose._

"_We're fine, Bobby. I think I broke my nose when I fell on Frank. That's where the blood is coming from. Neither one of us is really hurt." Mick held out his hand as evidence of his bloody nose. Frank didn't offer an alternative explanation._

"_Bullshit! I saw that bullet hit you! I saw the blood spray!" Bobby yelled. Simmons stood wide-eyed beside him staring at Mick._

"_Bobby, it was just water. I got wet going through a sprinkler to get here. It wasn't blood spray. Look! We're both OK! You got Simmons! Let's get him in the car and back to the station," Mick suggested reasonably._

_Bobby looked at the two of them. Frank appeared a little dazed but unhurt in spite of his blood-soaked uniform. Mick kept dabbing at his nose but didn't seem to be in need of an ambulance. _

"_OK." Bobby said, giving Mick a critical look. "OK then. Let's go." _

**Present Day- Bobby's Apartment**

"We searched the house and found Simmons had a young woman tied up in his basement. He was evolving. Growing into something more that just a window peeper who liked to scare little girls. We were able to put him away for a lot of years. After that," Bobby sighed, "we didn't see as much of Mick. But he still talked to your dad and gave him leads periodically. We never took another one for granted like we did that night out by the freeway. Your dad and I only talked about it once after the report was filed. It was the next spring. He'd just found out your mom was pregnant again and we were celebrating by having drinks at The Ace Bar. He told me what he'd seen and we both agreed we had to have made a mistake. But, we both knew the truth. We just couldn't reconcile to it."

Bobby leaned over the table toward Carl and tapped his finger on the surface. "I saw that bullet go into Mick's chest. He took that bullet for your dad. If he hadn't been there your dad would have died that night and you…" Bobby now pointed the finger at Carl…"would never have been born. Your dad told me that night at the bar that he owed his life and the life of the baby growing inside your momma to Mick and hoped he'd have the chance to repay him one day."

Carl sat quietly listening to his dad's best friend talk. The man who had been like a father to him during those years when he had so needed a male figure to look up to. A damn good police detective with a nose for facts and figures and evidence.

"What is he?" Carl asked.

Bobby laughed out loud. "Hell, I don't know Carl. I don't know that he's anything other than a man who's helped a lot of people. We saw less and less of him over the years. I made Detective and you dad wasn't far behind. We'd still get the occasional tip from Mick. Then Frank died and I was the only one who knew the story. Mick would show up at a crime scene sometimes but by then I was the old-timer and none of the new guys on the force thought anything about Mick not looking any different. I kept telling myself he was just one of those people who age well." Bobby snorted a chuckle. "Real well."

Carl stood just for something to do. He needed to move, felt pushed to activity of some kind. Hoping the act of motion would help settle the things he had just heard he walked to the kitchen and set his coffee mug in the sink He should be shaking his head in disbelief and calling Bobby a senile old man. But he wasn't. And that worried him. Hell, truth be told, that scared the shit right out of him. Because if he wasn't the police detective who followed the evidence where it led and dealt with the facts of the case…then who was he?

"Once my eyes went bad and I retired from the force, Mick would drop over a couple of times a year. We talk about the old cases and go out for dinner and drinks. But we never talk about his…differences. Or that night. We're both more comfortable with it that way."

"How do I…" Carl stammered. "…what do I do with this Bobby?" Carl turned from the sink and watched as Bobby stood.

"I don't have that answer, Carl. All I know is that Mick St. John is a good man. I trust him and your dad trusted him. Frank died before he ever got repay him the way he wanted. If Mick is in some kind of trouble now, then maybe the time has come for you to make good on your dad's promise."

"I'm a police detective, Bobby." Carl said, hoping that the statement would explain everything.

"Yeah," Bobby chuckled. "I've used that line a time or two over the years as well! And it still doesn't make any difference in what I know."

Bobby reached out a hand and placed it unerringly on Carl's shoulder. "You're a damn fine police detective, Carl. I'm proud of you and your dad would be proud of you too. But you're also Frank's son. He knew that sometimes you have to accept things as they are. You can't make the pieces fit where they don't belong. And trust me, these pieces don't fit in any picture I've ever seen."

Carl knew Bobby was telling the truth. He also knew he had to follow the trail to its end. And the trail kept leading him straight back to Mick.

**A/N Carl's black and white world has been rocked and I'm sure he's interested in finding out what's going on. Want to walk the trail with him back to Mick's place? If you're interested, come on along. But there is a toll on the road over to the Penthouse. A review will let you through the gate. Meet you at Micks!**


	21. Dreams and Desires

Chapter 21-Dreams and Desires

**Disclaimer: No infringement intended. **

**a/n-In this chapter Mick's naked. Beth isn't. This will have to be addressed and I plan to in a later chapter. But for right now you'll just have to work with me, here. OK?**

**And I will grant you that I'm not sure of the exact layout of Mick's fortress of solitude. So I have taken liberties to design it as I see fit or be sufficiently vague that it really doesn't matter. It is my story after all! **

**Hope you enjoy!**

With one hand braced against the wall beneath the shower head, Mick rested the side of his face against his arm and let the hot water sluice over his head and neck. It tinged slightly pink as it started to dissolve the crust of blood matted in his hair.

He'd decided to let the water work its magic after his attempt to scrub the wound on the back of his head had brought unexpected tears to his eyes. Evidently the laceration was deeper than he'd originally thought. He could probably use a couple of stitches but he couldn't do it himself and wasn't keen on heading to the ER where questions could be asked and lab tests run. And he certainly wasn't going to run to the doctor that Josef kept on retainer for his freshies. He'd let the wound heal on its own and add one more scar to the growing list of marks his body was acquiring.

He savored the heat from the water and felt the knots in his muscles start to relax in its soothing massage. Prior to a week ago the temperature of the cold water would have barely been cool enough to be in his comfort zone. Now he often left the shower with his skin rosy from the piping hot water. It felt lavish and self-indulgent…and transitory. He reached to turn up the hot water a just a tad more because he could still bask in it. There would come a time when this would become little more than a sweet memory and he aimed to make it as indelible as he could.

He turned away from the wall and lifted his face to the water raining down over him. He had to admit that not all of the warmth he was feeling was a result of the water. He lathered the soap across his chest and stomach and then lower, feeling his hardness through the soapy wash cloth.

Beth was waiting for him downstairs.

He huffed a breath and one corner of his mouth tightened in a smile. Evidently his ability to perform sexually was not going to be a problem for him tonight. However much blood he had lost during his encounter with Josef, he seemed to have enough left to maintain an erection and still remain standing. While not being able to perform would be embarrassing if the occasion presented itself, passing out while making the attempt would be beyond humiliating.

Since he'd slept and eaten again he was feeling quite a bit better. His body might not repair itself as instantly as it had without the compound in his system but it was, never-the-less, doing a pretty damn good job with what it had to work with. The human body had always amazed him with its recuperative powers. All without the benefit of what ever it was that had crept insidiously though his body over the last fifty five years, keeping him looking thirty instead of eight-five.

He finished his ministrations with the washcloth and, while still in the shower, ran a razor over the stubble on his face. Being clean and shaven lightened his heart and brightened his mood. It had always worked that way. During the war men had always fought better and harder after a good meal, a shower and clean clothes.

Now, he was about to undertake a campaign of his own agenda. He'd dallied and danced around the issue of making love to Beth for months because the thought of hurting her was so abhorrent to him. He'd not had sex with a human since before he was turned. He knew it was possible but also knew that it did not always turn out well. And the loser was always the human. The vague explanations he had given her never addressed his greatest fear.

The bite. To bite during climax was as natural to a vampire as breathing was to a human. And it happened when the vampire was in the least control of their urges. With another vampire it was an accepted fact of what they were. But, with a human, it could be deadly. And he had not been sure he had the control necessary to bring about a mutually satisfying experience for both of them without injuring her.

Now, it was not an issue. His body was functioning just as it had before he'd ever met Coraline. But since he had no way knowing how long he had to spend with Beth as a human he couldn't take this time for granted. He wouldn't. He might never have the opportunity to love her, this completely, again.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Dinner had been sumptuous. They had agreed that the entrée she'd snubbed earlier as 'meatloaf' deserved a much loftier designation. The herb laced delicacy soaking in a light, wine-based sauce could be compared to traditional meatloaf only by the fact that it was cooked in a loaf shape and sliced in one-inch slabs.

While Mick was upstairs showering Beth handled cleaning up the remains of their dinner. The only thing they hadn't devoured was the dessert and, after some serious rearranging, she found a niche for it in the refrigerator. He'd been right when he'd told her he had more food in his refrigerator that she had in hers. She counted boxes from four different local restaurants. Now five.

Beth had listened with rapt attention to his account of the previous nights events. Try as he might to take responsibility, she hadn't bought it. She laid the blame directly on Josef who should have had the common sense to knock.

"Josef _never_ knocks," he'd said, like it was one of the fundamental laws of nature.

She surveyed the rest of the downstairs. Why he was still sleeping on the couch instead of his bed she didn't understand, but there was no doubt that he was. The pillows were scrunched together at one end and partly jammed down between the arm and seat cushion. A blanket lay haphazardly over the back.

Her eyes traveled over the shifted furniture to the ruined railing and wall and she moved to the bottom of the stairs for a better look. The banister was broken away from the wall at the top of the stairs but was still attached to the newell post and a few of the spindles near the bottom. Hugging the wall side of the stairs she started up them to check out the broken plaster.

The plaster, where Mick's shoulder had initially hit, was completely broken out. A large hunk of wallboard sagged into the opening between the two-by-four studs and the lower part of the wall had a concave appearance. There were cracks running down the wall almost to the floor molding.

Standing midway on the stairs and looking down she noticed that the distance to the floor below looked much greater than when she'd been looking up from the living room. It was a miracle he hadn't broken any bones when he landed and skidded across the room. As it was, she imagined he must be pretty bruised and stiff.

The sound of the shower running caught her attention and, with just a few steps, she cleared the destroyed balustrade and stood at the head of the wide upstairs hallway. Mick hadn't bothered to close the bathroom door and steam billowed out into the hallway in little clouds.

She stood in the bathroom doorway and listened to him humming from the shower. It was odd. She couldn't remember ever hearing him hum or sing before coming to pick her up at her apartment the day before. Now that she thought about it she'd never heard any kind of music in his car or his house.

Drawn by his voice and the running water, a voyeuristic streak she hadn't realized she possessed surfaced. She grounded herself with one hand on the door jamb and took a step onto the tiled floor. She was way out of her comfort zone and couldn't imagine her humiliation if he caught her peeking at him.

The long length of his body could barely be seen though the steam fogged glass but it was enough that she felt her breath catch in her throat and was unable to turn her head away. His back was to her showing a creamy outline of wide shoulders, narrow hips and long, lean legs. She watched as he ran the washcloth he held in one hand over his opposite shoulder, down his arm, across his chest and then reverse sides.

She stood mesmerized by each movement she saw and only took a deep breath when the soap slipped out of his hand and he bent over to pick it up, all the while humming that melody to the thrum of the water.

She gripped the door jamb and felt her belly tighten as a wave of lust swept over her. It swelled in her chest and rushed over her skin like electricity. This was something she'd never experienced before, even with Josh. She liked sex, and desire was a familiar feeling. But this…this wasn't so much a desire as a need, as great as drawing in her next breath, which she seemed to be having some difficulty with at the moment. She could live without fulfilling a desire but death would be preferable to never having this gut-wrenching need satisfied.

If he turned back before she could convince him he needed her as much as she needed him then she would never have another opportunity. He wouldn't stay human forever. And she doubted he would ever consider turning her even if she asked. So, she would grow old; and he would stay young. The window for them to be together was small.

She had thrown herself at him on several occasions but he'd never given chase. He always stayed aloof and sidled out of the situation, taking a small piece of her pride with him each time. Now, maybe his resolve wouldn't be so firm. But she wasn't quite prepared to jump him in the shower…yet.

She forced herself back into the hall and was standing in his bedroom before she realized it. The bed was disheveled. The sheet and blankets pushed to the foot of the bed. One pillow lay lengthwise on the mattress and the other looked as though it had been thrown to the floor on the other side of the room. His jewelry was nested together on the dressing table beside his jeans and shirt.

She reached out with one finger and gently lifted the chain on the necklace he always wore. She held it up in front of her and studied the design. The fleur-de-lis pendant was surprisingly heavy and much more intricate than she had noticed before. Even though it was silver in color she was sure it had to be made of some other material. Perhaps the white-gold he'd said his ring was made of. She might not know where he slept when he wasn't human but she did have experience with seeing him suffer contact with silver. And it wasn't a pretty sight. As a matter-of-fact it had been damn scary.

As she stood gazing at the pendant swinging hypnotically from her hand she became aware of the sudden quiet. Her eyes darted to the mirror and she saw her wide-eyed, open mouthed reflection staring back at her accusingly. The water was no longer running in the bathroom. And she had no idea how long it had been off.

She dropped the necklace back onto the dresser and started toward the door with every intention of getting down the stairs and back into the living room as quickly as she could. But his footsteps in the hall forced her to reconsider. She backtracked toward the closet on the far side of the room and then turned again toward the doorway, realizing there was no way out other than the way she came in. She was caught. But at least it was in his bedroom looking at his jewelry rather than in the bath leering at his naked body. She'd have to own up to snooping a little and hope like hell that she didn't look as guilty as she felt.

She stood up straight and lifted her chin as he entered the room, head down and with a large white bath towel wrapped around the hips she had been admiring just minutes before. Dabbing at the back of his head with a smaller towel he didn't immediately notice her so she decided to take the first step.

"Hi," she said, raising her hand and wiggling her fingers in a weak wave of greeting. His yelp of surprise and quick back-step caused her to raise her brows and bite back a grin that threatened to spread across her face.

"Beth! I thought you were downstairs!" His words ran together as he tried to gather his wits. She'd scared the hell out of him.

"Did _I _just startle _you_?" she asked. His eyes were wide and that little furrow between his brows had appeared. She felt a certain amount of smugness that he hadn't known she was there.

"No! I mean, well, yeah. Yeah, you did! I didn't hear you come up. What are doing?" As if he didn't know. Others might have a cup of coffee after dinner. Beth snooped. He took a couple of barefoot steps into the room and tucked the end of the towel around his waist a little more securely in place.

"I wanted to see your…" The words melted away as her eyes roamed over his bare chest. He was still damp from his shower and droplets of water were gathering on the ends of several locks of hair. Her tongue involuntarily circled her lips as she watched one drop finally fall from a curl just behind his ear. It ran down his chest and rested on one nipple for an enticing moment before falling again and being absorbed by the white towel he had wrapped snugly around him.

"My…what?" he asked. He shifted from one foot to the other while his heart beat resumed its normal rhythm and the adrenaline spike burned off. His body was cut, scratched, bruised, battered and sore. This was not how he had wanted to present himself to Beth and he silently cursed Josef not only for the damage to his house but to his body.

She finally raised her wide blue eyes to meet his concerned hazel ones. Color had risen to his cheeks making him look much younger than he usually did. She felt, very much, like the lustful older woman about to seduce a younger, less experienced man. It was very different footing than she was usually on when she was with Mick. And she liked it. She liked it a lot.

He broke eye contact first and swiped the hand towel across his face to cover his increasing discomfort from her gaze.

"…bedroom…set," she finished. She cleared her throat and gestured toward the unmade bed. "It doesn't look like you've been getting much rest in it though." She picked up the pillow in the corner of the room and placed it lightly on the exposed bottom sheet at the foot of the bed.

"Yeah, well…the last time I slept in a regular bed I had a life altering experience. I couldn't seem to get it out of my mind." He was glad for the turn of the conversation. It gave him a moment to get his bearings.

"You dreamed about the night you were turned?" No wonder the bed was so tousled. Hers had looked much the same after her dream about Josh.

"I wouldn't call it dreaming," he said with exasperation. "You have to be asleep to dream and I wasn't able to get any in bed." His head snapped up and his eyes locked with hers briefly before he looked past her at some distant point in the room; one hand on his hip and the other extending toward her with the small towel. "Sleep…that is." He nodded briskly to affirm his words but kept his eyes from meeting hers.

She walked over to him so that she stood facing the shoulder the water drop had so recently plunged from. There were several more waiting their turn. She ran one finger down his shoulder to his nipple and smiled up at him. His discomfort was making her bold beyond her belief.

"Perhaps we'll have to give you something else to dream about while you're in bed next time," she whispered huskily. "So you can get some…sleep." She winked and walked slowly from the room leaving him with his imagination to consider her meaning.

Mick stood with his mouth open watching her retreat from the room. He blew a deep breath out of puffed cheeks and wondered how he had lost the upper hand when she had been the one who'd been caught snooping around.

He looked down at the towel around his hips and quirked an eyebrow. The fact that she had been dressed and he wasn't did give her an advantage. Next time he'd have to make sure they were on more equal terms.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

**_July 14-16, 1952-_The Party House****_  
_**

_Coraline showed him where he would sleep his days away on the second day of his vampiric honeymoon. She had purchased an industrial sized freezer for him and it had been installed in the sub-basement of the party house several days before their wedding. _

_When he saw it for the first time he was horrified. He couldn't imagine being sealed inside; in the dark; alone. He'd backed away from it even as his bride attempted to coerce him to lay in it. _

_Taking several steps backward he'd felt the basement wall come up solidly behind him. Without ever taking his eyes off of the purring piece of refrigeration he'd slid along the wall until abruptly coming to a stop in the corner. He hadn't learned a lot of the rules of his new existence yet but the idea of lying down in that freezer was unthinkable._

_He'd resisted for another two days before, sick with exhaustion, he'd had to reconsider the benefits of the thermostatically controlled sleeping environment._

"_Mick, listen to me! You have to rest!" She was trying to keep her alarm at bay. He looked bad. His eyes were sunken and yellowing. His movements were becoming spasmodic and she could see him working his tongue over his fangs which were refusing to retract. While he, thankfully, hadn't tried to run away again he had balked every time she tried to talk to him about what she considered to be a marvel of modern comfort. _

"_Just feel how cool it is," she encouraged. She lifted the lid and held her hand over the opening. She was also tired and needed to feed. But she had created this responsibility and had to make sure he was cared for. She had just never thought he would make it so difficult. _

"_You need this to regain your strength. You're not feeling well are you?" It wasn't really a question. She could tell he was failing and quickly._

_He shook his head but didn't let his eyes wander from the white chest freezer. No, he didn't feel well at all. He nearly laughed hysterically at the thought. How could he feel so sick if he were dead? It didn't make sense. If death was nothing else, shouldn't it be the end of suffering? Whatever he had he done to deserve this misery he would gladly confess a thousand times over if given the opportunity. Just make it stop. Please._

_His muscles were knotted and his head ached from what felt like a high fever. His mouth was dry and he desperately wanted something to drink. The very thought brought visions of thick, red, viscous liquid to his mind and his tongue flicked out over chapped, cracked lips in anticipation of a feeding. _

"_I thought the blood kept us alive," he croaked._

"_It does, Mick. But you're so young. You need rest. Please? Come sleep. I'll leave the lid up. You don't have to feel confined," she pleaded. It wouldn't be as cold as he needed but it was better than having him seek out the cool of the basement floor as he had been the last two days. _

_He thought she sounded like his mom when he had asked her to leave a night light on in hall for him when he was a child. He supposed, in some perverted, demonic way, he was a child. He'd only been a vampire for a few days and he suspected his new wife was a good deal older than she had written on their marriage license. _

_He growled with frustration and weariness and distantly wondered if the sound had really come from him. Nodding his agreement he lurched toward the chest. _

_Relieved, Coraline helped him strip out of his street clothes and supported him as he climbed into the unit. As his body accepted the comfort of the freezing cold his mind accepted another fact of his new life. Cold and darkness were soothing and good. Heat and light would forever be his enemy. Then he was submerged in the frozen oblivion and his thoughts ground to a halt. His mind becoming as still as his frost-bound body. _

**Mick's Penthouse-present day**

"What?" Mick raised his head and looked across the coffee table at Beth. He'd lost himself in memories from long past and had completely missed her last round of questions.

She giggled and swirled the wine around in her glass. "I said…do you dream when you're a vampire?"

"Ummm…no. That's not one of the perks of being a vampire. No dreams."

After he'd regained his composure, and his clothes, he'd shown her the freezer room upstairs. He provided an explanation about why he needed it which, of course, had prompted a spate of questions worthy of any daytime talk show host. However, it seemed to make complete sense to her that he would require the cold to rest and recuperate. He smiled wryly. Had he been half so accepting as she was he could have saved himself and Coraline a lot of misery from the very beginning.

"So you're just 'on' and then you're 'off'?" she asked, trying to understand as much as she could about the mysteries of his vampire existence.

"Pretty much," he said. He reached for the wine bottle and refilled both of their glasses. She had asked all the questions he had anticipated. How cold was it? How long did he sleep? Why no pillows or padding? She'd grown quiet for a few moments when she discovered he always slept in the nude. Most fabrics did not tolerate the extremely cold temperatures well and actually tended to wake him up as they froze and became uncomfortable next to his skin. The dream question though. That one was a surprise.

When he became human again he hadn't given a thought to dreaming, nor, for that matter, to sleep. Food. Warmth. Sun. Those were high on the list. It wasn't until his body started to tire that he realized he'd have to make other arrangements for resting while the compound raced through his veins.

Nestling down on the couch with an afghan had seemed like a dream come true that first night. But he'd wakened in the dark, early morning hours from a real dream that made the last fifty years disappear. He'd been sitting at his parent's kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee with his dad. His mom must have been baking because there were warm cookies on the table between them. He had stepped back in time to a place called home.

"_I'm glad you're back, son. We've both missed you," his dad said over his coffee. _

"_Me too, dad. I've missed you too," he answered._

That was all there was to that first dream. No more words. Just the comfort of sharing a cup of coffee with his dad and knowing that they loved him and had missed him. The contentment he had felt during the dream had followed him through to the morning.

"Well, I guess no dreams, no nightmares, right?" Beth said softly taking another swallow from her glass.

"Right," Mick replied unconvincingly and lifted his own glass to his lips.

A sharp rapping on the door stopped any further discussion. He looked over his shoulder at the door and then down at his watch.

"Are you expecting someone?" Beth asked.

"No." He frowned and set his glass back on the coffee table but made no move to get up.

There was another knock but he remained quietly seated, apparently lost in thought.

Beth finished her wine and gestured to the door with her empty glass.

"Well, we know it isn't Josef," she chuckled. "This visitor is knocking!" She grinned at him. "So are you going to find out who it is?"

"Yeah." He stood and reluctantly walked to the door and flipped on the security camera. He dropped his head when he recognized the man standing on the other side of the door. He really didn't want to deal with this right now. Taking a deep breath he opened it briskly and greeted his guest.

"Hi, Mick."

"Hello, Carl. What brings you out this way?"

**a/n- Oh Ho! Our little Beth is showing her lusty side. No faster than Mick's been working I can't really blame her. Can you? He needs a bit of prodding and it would appear that Beth is up to the challenge. So, Mick's been fed, bathed and properly attired. They both seem to have made up their minds as to what they want. Now they just have to synchronize their efforts. **

**Everyone look at their watches now. Mark! You have five minutes to re-read the chapter if you need to, think up some clever, witty review and press that button. Otherwise…who knows how long Carl might stay. A quick and encouraging review might get him out of the place in record time so that Mick and Beth can start synchronizing!**


	22. Feint in Time

Chapter 22-Feint in Time

**Disclaimer: I will soon have delivered to my door DVDs containing the world of Moonlight. Other than those DVDs, I own nothing else associated with this wonderful show. My loss, I'm afraid!**

**a/n- Have you ever been walking merrily on your way to somewhere, thinking happy thoughts and that, generally speaking, your life is pretty darn good? Then, suddenly, you feel the cold draft of doom whip around a corner and hit you full force. If you have…then you'll know how Mick feels in this chapter. If you haven't…you soon will.**

**Wait for it…….**

Beth could hear Mick talking with someone but, other than being able to tell it was a man's voice, she couldn't make out who it was.

She edged over to get a better view of the doorway and caught sight of Carl Davis standing in the hall. Whether he meant to or not Mick was effectively blocking the entry with one hand on the door frame and the other gripping the door itself at head level.

"Beth?" Carl asked in astonishment, as he glimpsed her just beyond Mick's shoulder. She looked as startled to see him as he was to see her.

Without moving from the doorway Mick turned his head just enough to catch Beth's movement behind him. Then he faced Carl's accusing gaze and sighed heavily.

"Would you like to come in Carl?" he asked, hoping against hope the man would have some detecting to do elsewhere in the city and decline the invitation.

However, Carl had already pushed his way past Mick's arm before he said, "Yeah, thanks."

He walked directly over to Beth. He wasn't sure from where the feeling of old fashioned morality had suddenly sprung but he was offended at seeing her in Mick's apartment. Beth was Josh's lady, soon to have been his wife. Now, she's was hanging out at St. John's house with Josh less than a week in his grave? It pissed him off and worried him at the same time.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. He cast a quick, sideways glance at Mick still standing at the door. "Are you alright?" He spoke the last in a more confidential tone.

She gave him a confused smile and took a half-step away from him. "Yes Carl, I'm fine." Feeling as though she needed to explain her presence at Mick's she resorted to her skills as a writer and did some fancy fabrication. "I…brought over a bottle of wine. I wanted to thank Mick for everything he did to try to save Josh."

The smile melted away and her eyes dropped to the wine glass in her hand. Saying Josh's name brought forth a wash of emotions flooding over her and she was transported to the park. Standing between Josh, who was lying dead on the ground in the warm afternoon sunshine; and Mick, who was looking pale and drawn with his hands covered in Josh's blood. The one, who had so recently been warm and vibrant, was cooling in death and the other, who already harbored death's cold touch, was standing beside her. Even knowing what she did about Mick it was still difficult for her to reconcile the twisted perverseness of the whole thing.

"Is this an official visit, Carl?" After standing at the door for a moment, Mick had finally closed it and joined the two of them. He didn't need to be a vampire to sense Beth's introspective mood nor the concern on Carl's face. He hadn't heard their brief conversation and, for a moment, missed the super hearing he'd taken for granted for almost two-thirds of his life.

"No, I just stopped by to…" Carl had turned to address Mick and was caught off guard by the cuts and bruises on the man's face. He hadn't had time to notice them in the dim hallway light

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked abruptly.

Mick had forgotten his battered visage and self-consciously raised his hand to the healing cut above his eye. Beth's eyebrows rose perceptibly but Carl was more closely examining Mick.

"I was, uh, mugged," he said with a soft snort. Nodding, he pointed to the back of the apartment. "In the alley out behind my parking garage." A generous dose of the truth always gave credence to a lie. He didn't have to tell Carl the combatants had included his ex-wife and brother-in-law.

"Mugged?" Carl could practically hear a piece of the puzzle drop neatly into place. Max Stang had told him he'd come across Mick in the alley after he'd been mugged. The man was a creep but had just managed to crawl up a rung on Carl's ladder of credibility. It made him wonder how much more of sleaze ball's story had merit.

"Did you report it?" A report of an average street mugging wouldn't be fodder for water cooler talk the next morning. But a mugging of one of their own, or one that lived on the periphery of their world, would spread like wildfire through the departments.

"PIs have a hard enough time earning the respect of the police," Mick retorted. "I'd have been the topic of jokes for weeks with you guys. I thought it was better to keep my pride and dignity intact. I couldn't identify them anyway. It was just some kids. They took my cash, had some fun roughing me up and then ran for cover."

"They didn't follow you into the house did they?" Carl's gaze had shifted to the shattered wall and stair railing.

"Ahhh…no. I bought some furniture and the delivery men had trouble negotiating the stairs with it," Mick replied, adroitly weaving a measure of truth into the fabric of this story as well.

"Yeah, they sure did," Carl responded.

An awkward moment ensued when no one spoke or looked at each other.

Carl finally broke the silence. "Looks like you have good taste in wine, Beth." He picked up the bottle and glanced at the label. He didn't know good wine from bad and certainly didn't recognize the name. But he wanted a more comfortable ambience to work in and needed them to let down their guard down a little. Unfortunately, it wasn't how people usually responded to him…and this situation was no different.

"Thank you," she sputtered. She watched Carl handling the wine bottle and looked up at Mick with a question in her raised brows.

He cleared his throat and responded with a shrug and questioning look of his own.

"Umm, would you like some wine, Carl?" he asked. He knew Carl was attempting to manipulate the situation but was willing to play it out for the time being. He was still in a position where he could afford to be gracious but suspected Carl would push that envelope before finally leaving.

A smile, that never quite reached his eyes, formed accommodatingly across the detective's mouth.

"Why, yes. Yes I would. Thanks Mick," Carl replied, pleased with his small success.

Mick pasted a similar smile on his own face and caught an expression of chagrin from Beth.

"I'll get another glass." Mick said flatly and walked into the kitchen. He had a bad feeling about this unexpected visit from Carl. He only hoped he'd be able to dodge the bullets long enough to satisfy whatever curiosity had risen in Carl's naturally suspicious mind. The one thing he knew for certain about Carl was that he was very good at what he did.

While Mick was playing host Carl took the opportunity to scope out his apartment. He walked around the living room and foyer, taking in every little nuance of the lifestyle Mick led. Expensive and classy. Were it not for the damage to the wall and stairs the place could have been on the front page of a home decorating magazine. Artwork hung on the walls that made Carl angle his head to one side to see if it made any more sense than straight up and down. None of it was to his liking but he could tell Mick had a certain artistic taste that belied the usual private investigator style.

Hell, the apartment itself was a contradiction. The penthouse of the damn building for Christ's sake? Most PIs he knew, even the good ones, couldn't begin to live like this. Either Mick was a lot better at what he did than even Carl had given him credit for or he'd fallen into a goodly sum of money from somewhere.

"Here you go, Carl." Mick had followed him into the library area with the wine.

"Thanks." Taking the glass he gestured expansively to the walls. "You have a lot of interesting artwork Mick, but I don't see any family photos."

Mick looked at the walls as if seeing them for the first time.

"Family gathered round the Christmas tree, graduations…weddings?" Carl looked from Mick's blank expression to Beth, who was just entering the room. "Fishing with Dad?" Carl suggested to Mick.

Sensing Mick's loss of balance in the conversation Carl pressed his advantage. "You know," Carl continued, "I was talking with Bobbie Desmond earlier today…"

"Bobby Desmond?" Beth repeated as she walked into the room. "Retired detective from LAPD?"

"Yeah, that's right. He's an old friend of the family. He said you'd stopped by a few months ago when Spaulding got out of jail."

Mick gave her a curious look. She disregarded his stare and took a sip of her wine before answering Carl.

"Uh-huh. He worked Spaulding's ex-wife's case years ago. I was just trying to get some background information first hand," she replied with a shrug of one shoulder.

Carl watched her shrewdly.

"Well," he said, turning back to Mick. "Bobby said he and my old man used to be pretty chummy with your dad. Working cases together. Did you ever meet Bobby, Mick?"

Mick knew he was at a fork in the road. Should he deny knowing the man or acknowledge being in contact with him? Heads or tails? He could lose with either choice. He took a drink from his own glass and let his gaze brush over Beth.

"Yeah, I know Bobby. I stop over to say hi a couple of times a year. It's funny, he starts going over old cases and sometimes I don't think he's talking to me anymore. I think he mixes me up with dad. We sound quite a bit alike." He sent a silent prayer to Bobby asking for forgiveness in trying to make him out to be slightly senile.

Beth choked on a mouthful of wine at that statement and coughed. Both men turned to her in concern.

"No, no. I'm alright," she wheezed, flapping her hand at them. "It just went down wrong. Excuse me…" she coughed into her hand. _Sound quite a bit alike? What an understatement!_

"You think Bobby's going senile on us?" Carl asked, turning back to address Mick. He shook his head, considering the man who had been a father figure to him longer than his own dad. "He never confuses me with my dad. In fact I'd say he's still pretty damn sharp."

"I don't think he's senile. I think he just remembers the old days a little too vividly sometimes." It wouldn't derail Carl's train of thought completely but it would give him something to chew on if Bobby had been telling him stories from the 'old days'.

"Hmmph. Well, I was just thinking on the way over here that it would be pretty cool to see a picture of your dad. From what Bobby said they worked a lot of cases together. I like that kind of stuff, you know. Family history." He noticed Mick's disbelieving look and smiled disarmingly.

"No, Carl. No photos. The few I have are stored away. I don't display them. Now, did you come here to discuss my family or was there some other reason?" Mick asked more sharply than he'd intended.

"Right," Carl said, keeping the smile plastered on his face. He had just managed to tease out a raw nerve from Mick's armor of self-control and felt the zing of discovery. He stored the information away in his mind with a note to excavate this chink at a later time.

"Yeah, there was," he continued. "You know, that tip you gave us from Bustos about Tejada being at the Compos didn't pan out so well." He kept his tone light and conversational.

From the corner of his eye Mick watched as Tejada's name drew Beth to move in closer to them.

"Really? That's too bad. He seemed to be giving me straight information." Mick knew he'd let his irritation show about the family photos and that Carl had pounced on the tidbit like a wolf. Now though, he would dance with Carl, matching him word for word and story for story. They were like fencing partners. Feint, parry, riposte.

Carl barked a laugh. "He seemed to be about to piss himself. What did you say to him anyway?"

"I just reminded him that Tejada wasn't the most forgiving man when it came to botched jobs. That he'd be safer if Tejada was in custody rather than out and able to give the order for his execution."

"Well, it doesn't really matter," Carl sighed. "We got another lead that he was at the Hollenbeck. And we have an eye witness who saw the man who tore the place apart to find Tejada and take him away."

"Someone kidnapped Tejada?" Beth asked casting a severe glare in Mick's direction.

"Yeah," Carl responded. "But there hasn't been any word on who has him. The family hasn't been contacted regarding a ransom. My opinion is that he's been murdered."

"Murdered?" Beth exclaimed and shot a glance to Mick's narrowed eyes.

"The witness said he saw a man attack Tejada. There was blood at the scene and there had been a hell of fight. A three hundred pound desk was shoved across the room and then flipped like it was made of papier-mâché. Whoever it was then broke out the back wall of the place and took Tejada with them. I've got a forensics team over there right now going over Tejada's office."

"Sounds like there would have to be more than one man to do that kind of damage. That's pretty heavy duty destruction for one guy. And I can't imagine Tejada wouldn't have had guards or been without a weapon," Mick offered.

"No. My witness says one man," Carl insisted

"Maybe your _witness _was imbibing some of the bar's beverages," Beth suggested. "Did he give you a good description of this man?"

"I think he'd know the guy if he ever saw him again. But the description of a tall, thin, white guy with longish brown hair could fit almost anyone." He chuckled and raised his wine glass to Mick. "Even you, Mick. You ever been to the Hollenbeck?"

Mick didn't hesitate in answering this time. He was going straight for a bald-faced lie.

"No. Don't even know where it is."

Carl nodded. "Well, you haven't missed out on anything. It's a shit-hole. I only ask because a car similar to your Benz was seen there that night."

Mick affected an expression of interest. "Same eye-witness?" he asked.

Carl started to reply but was distracted by his cell phone chirping. He pulled it from his pants pocket and checked the number. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. Timing was everything. He couldn't have asked for a better call to come at this precise moment.

"Sorry. I need to take this. It's the forensics team I have at the Hollenbeck."

He set his wine glass on the table and flipped open the phone watching Mick's face carefully. All he needed was a glimmer of concern or dismay to register on his host's face. All Carl noticed though, was Mick probing his tongue over the split in his lower lip while he swirled the wine around in his glass. The PI appeared to be deliberately avoiding looking at him or Beth, which was a telling tale in itself. He only had to figure out what the tale was.

"Davis," Carl said curtly into the little device. "What have you got for me?" A quiet moment elapsed before Carl's voice shattered the stillness.

"What?!" he exclaimed and dropped his gaze from watching Mick.

The couple in front of him looked up as one when they heard his exclamation. Carl's plastic smile melted away as he turned away from them and talked more urgently to the man calling him from the Hollenbeck.

"What the hell do you mean it burned down? How?"

For the second time that day Mick missed his vampire super hearing. But the expression on Carl's face gave him almost as much information. It was obvious that the detective was not happy. And that lifted the black cloud that had been hovering over Mick since Carl had walked into the apartment. He chanced a glance a Beth but only received a cold stare before she turned her attention back to Carl.

"Did you get _anything_?" Carl hissed. Based on the profanity that flew from his lips the answer seemed to be in the negative. "No! Stay there! I'll be there in forty minutes and I want a better explanation than it 'just burned down'!" He snapped the phone closed and gripped it so tightly he was surprised it didn't crack. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

"Problems?" he heard Mick ask from behind him.

Carl took a moment to get his temper back under control before turning slowly to face Mick. _Oh no. Besides the fact that the only evidence I have regarding the case just went up in smoke…everything's just hunky-dory._

"There's been a fire at the Hollenbeck." Carl said. "I have to get over there and check out the damage."

"Did your team get the evidence it needed?" Beth asked.

Carl met Mick's eyes. "No. No they didn't." Carl had thought that Mick had been trying to keep himself in check. and now he was sure of it. Mick's shoulders relaxed imperceptibly and he took a deep breath before speaking again.

"That's a shame, Carl. I'm sure something else will open up on the case."

"Oh it will," Carl stated matter-of-factly. "And it will lead me right to the door of the man responsible. I have a lot of questions to ask and I mean to get them all answered." He stepped closer to Mick to ensure his meaning was not lost. "It's my nature."

Mick smiled grimly. "Yes, I expect it is."

"Thanks for the wine, Mick." He motioned to the untouched glass on the table. "Beth, let me know if you need anything. Anything at all," he stressed. "I'll be in touch with the two of you regarding the progress on the case. I know you both have a…personal interest in it." He looked pointedly at Mick.

Thirty seconds later Carl was gone and Mick was standing alone and unprotected from the questions he knew Beth would be throwing at him like knives. How could he protect himself from the truth? He was good at negotiating minefields like Carl had set for him tonight but Beth knew enough of the truth about him that evasion was not an easy option. He could either lie or simply refuse to answer. Either way it wasn't going to be pretty.

He had purposefully kidnapped a human; spurred him to run in the desert night to simulate a hunt and then drained him of every drop of blood his body had to offer. And the worst part? The part that told more about his character and the extent of the chasm that separated vampire from human…was that he had reveled in it. He had felt alive and free and completely in his element. He was doing what he did best when he wasn't playing at being human. Killing.

It had been twenty-five years since he had run a true hunt and the predator in him had exploded out of its cage that night like the murdering monster it was. Finally unleashed, he was only able to contain it again when it was fully sated. Even then, he was not so sure it was so much a matter of him taking control again as it was the beast willingly yielding it back to him. It had been content for the moment.

After all of his high and mighty talk about placing such a great value on human life…he really never walked the walk. They were just empty words rattling around in a soulless body that was every bit as lifeless as the shell of Tejada he had buried deep in the sand and covered with tons of boulders.

He knew, in whatever served a vampire for a heart or soul, that Tejada deserved to die for all the pain and suffering and deaths he had committed or arranged. But if that was true…then what marked him as being any better than Tejada? Innocents, and their families, had suffered and died at his hands over the years as well.

He had lived with this knowledge about himself since his turning. But to see it reflected in Beth's face was more than he could stand. He would face her justifiable outrage because he felt he deserved it.

"Beth…" he said softly. Her back was to him and she didn't respond immediately. He thought, for a moment, that she hadn't heard him but he couldn't bring himself to forge ahead into a conversation he didn't want to have.

"Did you take Tejada, Mick?" Her voice was etched with sadness.

The words were barely audible but they pierced into the very marrow of his being. She would know a lie for what it was just as surely as she could tell the clear ring of truth when she heard it. It was time to face the music, as his mother had always told him.

"Yes." He almost choked on the word.

She turned, finally, to face him. Her eyes showing the depth of emotions playing out in her heart. Anger…sadness...disgust.

"Did you kill him?" she asked grimly.

"Yes," he managed to say. His answer tasted bitter and threatened to stick in his throat with shame.

"Did he…suffer?" She said the last word quickly. Almost as if she might not be able to say it at all if she didn't rush it.

He groaned and refused to answer. His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together. Every question she asked was like a stake in his heart. And every answer he gave felt like pure silver was pouring into the open wound.

_The Desert_

_He had dropped Tejada unceremoniously in the dirt after hauling him far away into the desert. He heard the drone of the man's voice but didn't pay attention to the words. The words were unimportant. It was the sweat of fear that he was interested in. However, the pounding beat of the heart driving adrenaline laced blood past those select areas, enticingly close to the surface of the skin, drew him in closer to the human. It was still ranting and making threatening overtures at him as he slowly circled it. He had not made a deep bite to its throat during his initial attack and the flow of blood had already stopped even though he'd not taken the time to lave his healing saliva over it. Why heal what he intended on killing later?_

_The human was on its knees in the sand. The expensive suit it wore was torn, dirty and spattered with its own blood. It turned with him as he circled it, trying to keep him in view and occasionally tossed a profanity or handful of sand at him. He had allowed himself to transform fully now and saw the terror in his prey intensify ten-fold as it stared at his moonlit countenance. It closed its eyes to sob and beat the ground futilely and in that moment he moved out of his circling pattern and was on his knees next to it. When its eyes opened again they were staring into his own silvered orbs that were only inches away. His nostrils flared and caught the strong scent of urine as the mortal before him moaned in fear._

"_Do you want to live?" he hissed, the words hitting the human's face on a breath of cold air._

_It slobbered and babbled unintelligibly but the head nodded furiously._

_He gripped its chin tightly and, grinning widely, allowed it to see his fully extended fangs. He exhaled a growl and drew in more of the rich scent of the human's body._

"_Then run," he whispered._

_In the time it took it to blink he had retreated to the shadows of a rocky outcropping and waited for the game to begin. Three times they played and each time he fed from it. Gaining strength and vitality as it became weaker and eventually unable to continue. _

"_For Josh Lindsey," he whispered in its ear the final time. "And for Beth." He fed at its throat lazily and did not enthrall it to relieve its fear before it lost consciousness. He wanted it to be aware to the very last possible moment of what was happening to it and that there was absolutely nothing it could do about it. _

The Penthouse

She cleared the ten feet between them and stood before him, her small frame shaking. "Did. He. Suffer!?" she shouted at him.

"What do you think Beth?" he answered in exasperation. "Yes! He suffered! I made _sure_ he suffered. To make up for all the suffering he had caused. To make up for the suffering he'd caused you."

He looked down at her and watched the tears fill her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to kiss them away but her face became suddenly hard and impassioned and he saw in her eyes what he so often saw in his own in the mirror. A loathing of the creature he was.

Her mouth set determinedly and her hand rose upward. He closed his eyes, turned his head and waited for her small hand to strike his face. The blow would be welcomed. Anything, _anything_, to take his mind off of the ache in his heart.

**a/n- As for the title of this chapter a 'feint in time' is a fencing term. It is a feint of counter-attack that draws a counter-parry, which is deceived. It seemed a pretty apt description of how Mick and Carl got along in this chapter. **

**Well, if it weren't for bad luck Mick might not have any luck at all. Who writes this stuff anyway?!?!? **

**But at least Carl is gone. That is what several of you asked for, isn't it? Now, look what we're left with. The only good news is that Tejada is history! Mick dispatched him with great enthusiasm it seems.**

**So, do you think Beth should slap Mick? He's waiting for it…ready for it…even thinks he deserves it. What do you think? Let me know. Your opinion can be logged by pressing that review button! All entries will be considered. You do not need to be present to win.**


	23. The Taming of the Monsters

**Chapter 23-The Taming of the Monsters**

**Disclaimer: I hear the sale of Moonlight DVDs is making someone a passel of money. However, it is not me.**

**A/N Wow! You folks are really soft on Mick, aren't you? With a resounding 'NO' you responded to the question of whether or not Beth should slap Mick. Does she agree? Read on and find out!**

He flinched when he felt her hand on his cheek. He'd been expecting; had prepared himself for; the humiliating sting of her open handed slap. It was to be the frosting on his own personal cake of self-loathing. Just desserts for what he was; what he'd done; hadn't done; would do. The list was an endless loop of sins he'd either already committed or might perpetrate in the future.

When the blow he was expecting was replaced by her soft caress he was taken aback by the tenderness. Eyes still closed, he turned his face into her hand and felt her fingers play over his cheek with gossamer softness.

"My god, Mick. Is this how you feel?" she said with dismay. She had seen his head briefly jerk away from her as she touched his face. She was sure he had expected her to strike him. A sad commentary on how she had been conducting herself the last ten minutes. Something she would have to make up for later.

He heard her speak but the words were lost on him at the moment. It was her touch, gentle and golden, that he sought. He couldn't stop himself from rubbing his cheek into her palm, his breath purring in his throat.

"Is this what it's like?" she asked, her voice awash with anguish. "Having to live with a monster inside of you?"

He opened his eyes suddenly and frowned down at her in confusion. "I…I don't understand…"

"Shh…" She moved her hand to place a finger over his lips. "I know. But I think I'm beginning to."

Tears spilled, unchecked down her face. A moue of disgust curled her lips as a soft sob escaped from them. She let her hand fall away from his face and rest on his chest; her fingers playing with a button on his shirt. Unwilling to relinquish the feel of her skin touching his, he reached up between them and covered her small hand with his own, stroking his thumb along its back.

"When I shot Spaulding…" she began, "…I only wanted to stop him from hurting you. I was afraid he was going to kill you. But I _wanted_ Tejada dead, Mick. Worse, I wanted to be the one to kill him. He deserved to die and Josh deserved to live."

He began to see where she was going. This was not just sorrow at losing Josh. This was something more innate that she was struggling with. She was questioning herself. Who she was and what she was capable of. It was a battle he was familiar with. One he fought everyday, more often losing than winning. And it tore his heart out that she had to wage this war within herself because of a brutal, murderous bastard like Tejada.

"Beth…don't…" he began.

"This is what you mean when you tell me you're a monster, isn't it?" she interrupted. "It's not about how you change physically. It's about how you have to live with the repercussions of what that other part of you does."

He opened his mouth to speak but could only shake his head mutely. She was skimming on the very tip of the truth his life was built on. He made deals with himself daily because he could no longer make them with the god he grew up with. He had helped a lot of people but he had a long way to go to make up for the atrocities he had committed those first years after he was turned. It wasn't an eye for an eye arrangement. Hell, it wasn't even two for one sometimes. But he felt Tejada was a paid-in-full stamp on at least one of the overdue accounts he kept track of in his head.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for doing what I wasn't able to do. And I am so sorry…" her voice caught on the pain threatening to close her throat, "…that you have to bear this burden because of me."

She stretched up on her toes and wrapped her free hand around the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss his lips.

He relaxed into her embrace and allowed himself to be kissed by her. Stunned that she wanted to after being so sure, just minutes ago, that he was about to incur her wrath. She tasted sweet from the wine she'd been drinking and salty from the tears that had tracked their way down her face to her lips.

He opened his eyes and stared into her wide blue ones, only inches away from him. They were on the cusp of what he had been waiting for. Hopefully, what they had both been waiting for. He'd been so terrified of taking the next step that he hadn't noticed he seemed to sabotage any path that took them closer to this moment. But no more. The price was too heavy for him to bear any longer. Life without her was not worth the effort.

"Beth. _My_ Beth," he sighed. He enveloped her with his arm and drew her in tight to him. He had called her 'my Beth' in his thoughts for weeks and had even dared to include the endearment on one of the cards he'd sent with the roses. However, he had never said the words out loud until now. As they hung in the air between them he found that they sounded as good to his ears as he had imagined they would when he breathed them silently to himself to keep them from echoing in his mind.

She molded herself to him and, to his amazement, seemed to fit perfectly in his arms. He buried his hand in her hair and supported her head as he had twenty-four years ago when he had carried her from the blazing inferno he'd left Coraline to burn in. She had fit into his arms perfectly then too. She had belonged to him since the moment she had crawled into his outstretched arms and had trusted him to take her to safety. She had grown from an amazingly resilient little girl of four to the strong and capable beauty he was now holding. The woman he had been waiting for almost a quarter of a century for had arrived in his life. And the real surprise was how unprepared he had been to accept her.

Before the weight of emotion could choke him he brought his lips to hers in a possessive kiss. Tasting her more deeply and exploring her mouth as he anticipated doing with her body before the night was over.

She responded in kind, matching his searching tongue with her own. Taking him into herself and then reciprocating. Demanding entry into his mouth to explore, examine and lay claim.

Flushed and breathless they pulled apart and looked at each other with surprise and soft laughter. Mick raised her hand that he had cradled next to his chest and ran his lips over the backs of her fingers, stopping to kiss each one as he made the return trip.

"Perhaps…" he said, stroking her palm and uncurling her fingers, "…we should move to a more comfortable location. I just happen to have a brand new bed upstairs. Never been slept in." He rolled his eyes and grinned at the sudden awkwardness he was feeling.

She giggled into his ear. "I saw that bed and you're lying. You've already slept in it. It's a mess." She ran her tongue under his earlobe and drew it into her mouth.

"Ahhh…" he sighed, his eyes sliding closed. Tingles of sensation ran along his neck and collarbone causing him to tuck his head and brush against her blond curls. "No. Trust me…I did _not_ sleep in it. I _laid_ on it. And I made it up before I came downstairs. It's all nice and neat..."

She massaged the soft morsel of flesh with her tongue making his breath come out in convulsive pants.

"…and soft…," he gasped.

Releasing his ear she started nibbling her way down his neck.

"…and warm," he added as a thrill raced down his spine.

She went up the stairs first. It seemed to take ages to negotiate the steps as he watched her hips precede him at eye level, bobbing tantalizingly close.

Once in the room she stood facing the bed with her back to him, head tipped to one side, invitingly. He moved in close behind her and bent his head to nuzzle at her neck, wrapping his arms around her. The fingers of one hand working at the buttons on her blouse. The other cupping one breast and kneading it through the thin cotton fabric.

Groaning she turned toward him and rapidly finished removing the unwanted blouse. Reaching out, she drew him to her and kissed him greedily using one hand to untuck his shirt and unfasten his belt and jeans. Even through the heavy material she could feel the length of him waiting to be released.

Still kissing he stepped her backwards until her legs rested against the bed. Somehow, while she was concentrating on the feel of his stomach and chest muscles under her hand, he had managed to unzip her slacks and they fell loosely from her hips in a pool around her feet. She stepped out of them, and her sandals, as he pushed her back on the bed and helped her wiggle toward the center where he straddled her with his arms and legs, bestowing kisses on her breasts along the lacy edge of her bra.

"Off!" he said impatiently, deftly unhooking the delicate garment and lifting it off of her body to toss on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

His breath caught at the sight of her beneath him. Lips swollen from the attention he'd been giving them and eyes alight with passion. Sitting up he caressed both of her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers until they became hard pebbles. He granted first one and then the other his mouth, suckling them until she arched her neck and thrust her hips against him.

"Mick, too many clothes," she said, grappling with his shirt. She felt the bed heave as he shifted his weight on it but hardly had time to take two breaths before he was back; his clothes, no doubt, now keeping hers company on the floor.

Her skin prickled as he bathed her stomach with his tongue and blew his warm breath over the damp spots, moving lower until he encountered her panties covering the treasure he had been seeking. With a growl he forced his hands under her bottom and pulled at the piece of intimate apparel, sliding them down her hips. She extracted one leg and he pushed them down the other and out of his way.

She was already wet but he wanted to make sure she was ready for him. He ran his tongue along her crevices and folds, rubbing and stroking his way to her core, flicking the hooded nub of sensation to arouse her even more before gently sucking it into his mouth.

He heard her cry out his name and felt her hands in his hair urgently pulling him upwards. He released the hidden jewel from his mouth and licked and kissed his way back up her belly to her breasts. Bracing himself on one elbow, he occupied his mouth now to gently biting at her nipples with his teeth and then lapping slow, raspy circles around the edges of the pebbled flesh.

He worked the fingers of his free hand into the silky opening to her nether parts, searching for just the right spot within her. He knew he'd found it when he felt her clench tightly around his fingers.

"Oh my god, Mick!" she exclaimed, digging her fingers into his shoulders as the first wave overtook her, sending spasms through her body.

Her cries of pleasure and supplication that she could endure no more echoed in his head. He smiled as he continued to push her body to the very edge of release. He should have known she would be a vocal lover but her words were making it even more difficult for him to maintain control.

He shifted his body, gliding his chest over her stomach, skin to skin, until his erection was hovering at the gate of her femininity. Nudging, questioning, ready to immerse itself in the velvety folds.

She tipped her hips upward to meet him, first offering herself and then grinding into him, demanding fulfillment.

"Now, Mick!" she whimpered. "Please. Now!"

He groaned, lifting his chest from hers and arching his back with the first plunge into her warmth. Burying himself in her, only to withdraw and drive deeper with the next plunge, forcing her to take all of him.

She bucked, meeting him each time and drawing on him as he prepared for the next thrust. Liquid fire raced through his veins and flared to his skin, igniting wicks of sensation that skittered across every surface of his body, driving him past what he thought he could endure in his human condition.

She matched him, movement for movement, until the wave crested and they both cried out their release, slick bodies shuddering and pulling tight against each other.

He melted into her, weakness washing over him, his muscles refusing to hold his weight. He slid to the side, still holding her, and buried his face into her shoulder, gasping for breath.

Seeing her pulse throbbing in her neck he raised his head quickly and ran his tongue along his blunt top teeth. No fangs had descended. There had been no uncontrollable desire to bite into her throat and draw blood in order to complete his orgasm. There was only the absolute fulfillment of having made love to the woman he loved above all else in the universe.

He chuffed a noise of relief and, to further prove the point, allowed his lips to graze up and down her neck with little kissing bites before lifting his weight and falling over on his back beside her. He was still panting and his heart was galloping in his chest like a race horse.

"Are you alright?" she asked, reaching for his hand.

He could barely hear her over the sound of blood pounding in his ears. "I think…I might be having…a heart attack," he gasped, drawing in a deep breath that didn't satisfy his lungs need for oxygen.

Coming out of her stupor of satisfaction she raised her head to look at him with alarm.

"I'm joking," he chuckled and grinned up at her.

She responded with a soft laugh and relaxed back onto the bed.

"You shouldn't joke about having a heart attack after sex. Although, for a man of eighy-five you held up pretty good. I wouldn't have guessed you to be over fifty."

He chuckled softly again. "Ouch…right for the jugular. So much for my tender male ego."

She rolled over and nestled next to him, lying on his arm and resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. One leg snaked over his and her fingers swirled the hair on his chest into little circles.

He curled the arm she was laying on around her and traced his fingers over her shoulder, causing goose bumps to appear on her cooling skin.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Mhmmm," she breathed sleepily into his ear and snuggled closer to his side.

Drawing on what little strength he had left, and encouraging Beth's help, he pulled on the bedding beneath them, used his legs to kick it down far enough to clear their bodies and then brought the covers back over them.

He lay back down content to bestow eskimo kisses on her face. With their arms and legs woven together they shared their warmth with each other beneath the blankets.

"I love you," he whispered and pushed a tendril of hair back from her cheek. If he could have kept his eyes open for a moment longer he would have seen a brief dream induced smile cross her lips. But he was already beginning his own journey into the best night's sleep he'd had in over five decades.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

The silver BMW stopped with its nose to the garage door. At a silent signal from the passenger compartment the door rose and it shot into the parking garage and past the Benz parked nearest the elevator entrance.

The brake lights came on abruptly and the car bounced forward from the momentum before being shifted into reverse and brought to a squealing stop in front of the Benz and its scarred trunk lid.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Josef uttered the oath in disbelief. "What the hell did you do to my Benz, Mick?"

Parking the beemer where it was, he jumped out of it and squatted down behind the vintage vehicle.

"Who did this to you, baby?" he growled, scenting along the jagged mark.

Mick's dismay and anger registered first but deeper he sensed a brutal joy from the man who had run the key across the highly polished black paint.

"Slime-ball," he said, curling his lips and huffing the smell from his nose with distaste. He stood and ran his palm over the damaged trunk, giving it a couple of pats for good measure.

"You'd better hope Mick took care of you 'cause you _really_ don't want me to have to hunt you down," he snarled.

Turning, he reached into the newest addition to his fleet, punched the button to lower the garage door and headed to the elevator.

Gliding up to the penthouse in the quiet lift he leaned against the back wall and pulled at the knot in his tie. He planned to check on Mick's condition, grab a quick drink and head to the club for a massage and more substantial sustenance. Eating at Mick's was never overly satisfying and now that his best friend was treading on the mortal side of life, he doubted that the vampire cuisine had improved. It was a good thing he'd laid in a small supply of his own for any impromptu visits.

Beth had been in the elevator recently. Her richly sweet scent overlaid by the tang of two men, one of whom would probably wake from a wet-dream about the petite blonde sometime during the night.

One corner of his mouth tightened in a smile as he thought about Beth. She was everything that Mick needed right now to spur his interest in living. His friend was quickly approaching a significant milestone. Soon he would age beyond the span of years his human body would have survived. It was a difficult time for any vampire but Mick seemed more susceptible to depression than any vampire Josef had known for over a hundred and fifty years.

He'd noticed that Mick no longer surreptitiously perused the obituaries when he read the paper. There was no longer any reason to. There was no one from his past left to look for. The last family member, his older sister, had died of heart failure four years ago. His last friend, from what Josef liked to refer to as B.C., 'before Coraline', passed a year later.

Mick needed to ground himself. Josef had thought that matching him with one of the many female vamps in the community would smooth the evolution and take his mind off the ending of his first life, but he'd shown little interest in them beyond a mutually satisfying sexual arrangement with one or two. The kid could be so damned stubborn sometimes that it made Josef want to stake him and leave him in the basement till he came to his senses.

The elevator door pinged open and he pushed off from the wall and headed down the hall to Mick's front door. His fingertips worked the numbered code across the pad and the latch released, allowing him to enter the well lit, but quiet apartment.

He strode to the kitchen where he'd stored some select fluid refreshment that three of his most delicious freshies had graciously donated to his cause the night before. While seeing to his thirst he noted the three wine-glasses on the table and a purse beside one of the chairs.

"Hmmph," he muttered after downing a third of the glass. The lights were all on and three…count them…not two but three wineglasses. Maybe Mick was finally enjoying himself for a change.

"Way-to-go, brother," he said and offered a toast to the empty room. With a grin he downed another swallow before leaving it on the kitchen counter.

Crossing the room he looked up the darkened staircase and shook his head at the memory of its destruction the night before. Not one of his better moments. He'd have to get a crew out to repair the damage tomorrow.

Absently he picked up one glass and sniffed it. The fragrance of a palatable wine and scent of the second man from the elevator wafted up from it. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and glanced up at the stairs again. Although Mick had been off his game with the ladies the last few years his sexual preference had always been women. Another quick sniff of the apartment told him the man had not been there for a ménage a trois. There was only Mick and Beth present in the house.

He moved up the stairs and was enveloped by the pungent aroma of sex in the air. It was redolent with rich, full bodied, satisfying carnality. The aroma was so tangible it stopped him in his tracks.

He felt the soft purring rumble of interest growing in his chest and his fangs lengthen slightly. He had expected to find Mick recuperating from their encounter of the previous evening, not from the aftereffects of some amorous frolicking.

The darkened bedroom was not a hindrance to him as he approached the bed. They were spooned together facing him. The covers pushed to their hips and Mick's arm thrown over Beth's side, his open hand relaxed on the bed beside her and cupping the fullness of her left breast. There was a tumble of blonde hair spread across the pillow they shared and over her sleeping face.

He loved watching humans sleep. They were so soft and vulnerable. Beth was so young and looked even younger caught unaware in the throes of slumber.

They both looked sated. He had never seen such a look of contentment on Mick's face, even after a heavy feeding. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, hoping to catch more of the essence of their experience, but it eluded him.

As he watched them sleep Mick gently thrust his hips toward Beth and her sleeping body answered him by pressing her bottom back against him. There was an unconscious conversation taking place in their movements.

Josef felt his fangs lengthen again. It was too much. The two of them created a whole. They were complete…and he was…jealous?

That thought brought him up short and stopped his forward motion toward the bed. He didn't have jealous thoughts. He took what he wanted and regretted nothing. So why, after arranging so many one-night stands for Mick, did this little liaison make the blood in his stomach sour. He didn't know for sure. But he didn't like it. He turned to go and paused at the bedroom door for one last look at the sleeping couple, lost in their dreams. Hearts beating in their bodies in synchronized pulses, attuned to each other as they rested.

Within seconds he was out the apartment. The door clicking shut behind the blur of movement.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Mick opened his eyes with a start. There had been something…he couldn't quite tell what. Maybe it was a dream. Or maybe the dream was what he was holding. He squeezed the mound of flesh lying in his hand and was rewarded by a soft breathy sigh from the woman beside him.

The room was dark and quiet. The bed comfortable and warm. The body next to him nestled close to his chest. They were safe. All was well. There was no need to worry.

He closed his eyes again and purred his contented breath into the mass of curling locks of hair. They were alright. _He_ was alright.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

It was 3:30 in the morning. She wasn't coming home. He'd waited for her all night and she wasn't-fucking-coming-home.

Max sat in the dark apartment, surrounded by vases of roses expressing another man's love for the woman he had chosen.

He knew where she was. She was with him. St. John was forcing himself between them. But it wouldn't work. Once St. John was removed Beth would return to her life and he'd be able to be with her. Maybe even more so than he'd been with the others.

He wasn't angry with Beth. She just didn't understand that St. John was the wrong man for her. He would see to it that the lanky PI saw the error of his ways. And he was so going to enjoy watching his face when the moment of truth arrived. Fucking bastard.

Max walked to the bathroom and took a pee in the toilet, the act of relieving himself bringing a new need to his thoughts. Stroking himself and thinking of the blond woman as she bathed, brushed her teeth and used the toilet brought him to a climax with gasping suddenness. Curling forward he gripped the edge of the countertop for support until the strength returned to his knees.

Finally, opening his eyes, he saw it. The ring was still resting on a glass tray with one of her necklaces and a pair of earrings.

He wiped himself off with a generous amount of toilet paper, flushed the bowl and then washed his hands, wiping them dry on the fronts of his pant legs.

If he was going to be spending time protecting her from St. John he wouldn't be able to take on any new clients. It was only fair that she pay him for his trouble. He slipped the ring into his pocket and, after a moment of hesitation, added the thin gold chain to its contents. This would help even the score until she could pay him in full. The ring he would hock but the necklace would be for his collection.

**a/n-OK then. Obviously Beth didn't think he needed to be slapped either. How did you know what she was thinking?!?!? You're amazing!**

**Josef obviously has a few of his own personal issues to deal with and, of course, creepy Max is lurking in the background. But…you know what? Mick really doesn't care right now! Let the cards fall where they may…he's going to enjoy himself for awhile. **

**However, the piper always comes to be paid. And I'll bet the bill on this little tune is going to be a doozy!**

**No assignments this time. Just read and review chapter 23 and prepare for chapter 24. Thanks and I hope you all have sweet dreams tonight!**


	24. Friends & Lovers

Chapter 24-Friends and Lovers

**Disclaimer: Moonlight is not mine. I'm just taking it for a walk. A long, long walk!**

**A/N:Sorry for the long wait on the update. Mick once said being a vampire sucks. And sometimes real life does too. Working gets in the way of my fun time but it pays for the internet service! For those of you still interested in the story…thanks for staying around. I have every intention of finishing the story because it's already complete in my head. **

**I've started this chapter out with a verse from a song by an artist I have come to enjoy quite a bit. Jason Mraz. He has a catchy tune out called 'I'm Yours' but this one caught my attention as I was trying to put this chapter together. It seemed to fit how I thought Mick might be feeling. Great song and artist. Check him out if you haven't already.**

**Now let's see what our loving couple is up to. Wakey! Wakey!**

MAKE IT MINE by Jason Mraz

Wake up everyone.

How can you sleep at a time like this unless the dreamer is the real you?  
Listen to your voice. The one that tells you to taste past the tip of your tongue.  
Leap and the net will appear.

I don't wanna wake before the dream is over.

I'm gonna make it mine, yes I........ I know it.

I'm gonna make it mine, yes I'll make it all mine.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

So, now he knew. Beth was a bed-hog. During the night she had chased him across the expanse of the king-sized bed, following his warmth and nuzzling against his shoulder blades. Filling in the spaces he left behind him like water soaking into dry beach sand. Now she was breathing softly into his back and he could tell that he was in jeopardy of losing the narrow sixteen inches he currently rested on. The interior of his freezer was a mere thirty-six inches wide but he'd never had to fight anyone for the space.

And it was alright. As a matter of fact it was more than alright. It was fantastic. He would let her chase him across the bed every night for the rest of his life if he had any choice in the matter.

He dropped his left leg over the side of the bed and her foot moved immediately to rub against the calf of his right. Score in the last thirty seconds left of the night. Beth sixty-two inches. Mick-fourteen. He decided to forfeit the night, and the bed, and acknowledge that he was up against a more experienced adversary.

He stood quietly next to the bed trying to adjust to his blindness in the dark. He didn't want to wake her by stumbling through the room but the loss of his exceptional night vision was disorienting. He felt around the edge of the mattress to the empty side of the bed and snagged his clothes from the floor where he had hastily discarded them the night before.

Moments later he was heading down the stairs with a light step and an even lighter heart. Anticipation for this new day ran high. He was excited to get started. He felt buoyant. He felt good. He felt…happy.

He wasn't sure what brought him to a halt midway down the stairs. The twinge of pain radiating from his knee or the thought that he could even be happy. He hadn't considered himself and that particular emotion in the same thought for a very long time.

The residual pain in his leg disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and he was still left with the comfortable feeling of rightness in his life. He decided not to question it any further and simply ride on its wave for as long as he could.

Naked, he walked through the living room carrying his jeans and shirt and tracking toe prints of sheetrock dust across the hardwood floors. Downstairs the pre-dawn light filtering into the rooms was just bright enough to allow him to negotiate his way to the bathroom without breaking a toe or cracking a kneecap on a misplaced and unseen chair or table.

He'd take a quick shower, throw on his clothes, make coffee and wait for Beth to make her appearance. He wanted to get out and about early this morning. He had a particular place in mind for them to spend their day.

He flicked on the light as he entered the small downstairs bathroom and squinted down to see Beth's blouse clutched in his hand along with his jeans. In the dark he'd grabbed the garment thinking it was his shirt.

Rubbing the fabric between his fingers he smiled at the recent memory of how it had felt with her skin just beneath its surface. On impulse, he brought it to his face, breathed in the bouquet of her fragrance and felt the heady buzz of arousal for her zing through his body. She was like champagne. She went straight to his head. And other parts of his anatomy, he thought with amusement, observing himself in the full length mirror on the wall.

He hung the blouse next to his jeans on a clothes hook on the back of the bathroom door and decided he liked the look of her things co-mingling with his. He pushed aside the guilty thought that he should run it back upstairs to her. Seeing what she would wear downstairs when she woke would be worth shouldering any accusations she might make to him about purposely taking her clothes.

The room was well lit by early morning light when he exited the bathroom feeling refreshed and warm from the hot water. He decided that the coffee would not drip into glass carafe any faster by him watching it so he turned to the room to find something to occupy his time until either the coffee was made or Beth woke. He felt energized and wanted something to do with his hands. He'd settled on picking up the glassware from the night before when he saw it. It would have been a familiar sight on any morning prior to a week ago but today it was out of synch with his world. An anachronism.

He lifted the half empty glass of blood from the edge of the kitchen counter top. He knew it wasn't his so that meant it belonged to…

"Josef?" he whispered. If the elder vampire was anywhere in the apartment he would hear him. Mick scanned the rooms for any subtle shifts in the shadows.

"Josef?" he said slightly louder. Hearing a noise behind him he spun around and hitched his breath but was greeted only by the refrigerator cycling on. As slow as his responses were Josef could have stepped just out of his sight each time he turned but he knew his friend was no longer in the apartment.

He tipped the partially empty glass toward him and the gelatinous contents pulled away from the high side, its consistency telling him that the glass had set for several hours on the counter. He wrinkled his nose at the unappetizing look and smell. If Josef had taken the time to pour it he'd intended to drink it all. He'd apparently left in a hurry leaving Mick to deal with the clean-up and the knowledge that he'd been in the apartment.

Mick raised his face to the ceiling and chuckled out loud as he imagined Josef walking in on them. The time Josef had _not_ spent trying to get him to improve his feeding habits had been spent trying to get him laid. The attempts involving human women, Mick suspected, had the ulterior motive of encouraging a fresh feeding as well.

Josef had probably come in thinking to find him alone and instead found him in peaceful slumber with Beth at his side. That would have been only moments _after_ he'd sensed the raging hormones bouncing off of every surface in the room and the rich scent of sex upstairs.

Mick only wished he'd been awake to catch the expression on Josef's face when he walked into the bedroom. It would make for interesting conversation when he was finally able to speak with him again and this thought only added to his good humor.

His sense of well-being surged. He turned on the water in the sink, up-ended the glass and watched the dark red glob drop out of sight into the garbage disposal.

And that was how she found him. Standing at the sink and doing the few dishes by hand. The eye-opening smell of coffee wafting from the hissing, fizzing machine on the counter behind him. He was barefoot, bare-chested and delightfully relaxed looking while performing a routine domestic chore. He was humming again, this time loud enough that she could almost make out the tune.

He was so involved with his chore and his own thoughts that she was able to observe him without him noticing her. This time without the interference of a steamy shower glass between them. He was well-muscled but leaner than Josh.

She winced slightly. Than Josh had been, she thought. Had. That was the operating word regarding Josh. She had stepped over that thin line between then and now, between Josh and Mick. This was her 'now'. And she knew that the man in front of her represented her future. Last night's activity had closed the door on the chapter in her life marked 'Josh Lindsey'.

She stood quietly watching him, enjoying the view while she waited for him to notice her.

Without looking, he reached for the dishtowel on the counter, misjudged the distance and pushed it to the floor. In one motion he turned, stooped to retrieve it and caught sight of two bare feet, toes gilded with pink polish, peeking at him from the corner of his eye.

As he stood his eyes followed the progression of feet, to ankles, to legs. She was wearing his shirt from the night before and it hung almost to her knees. The sleeves were rolled up by half and they still reached her wrists. The way she'd buttoned the shirt left a **V** at the throat that cut deeply, and invitingly, between her breasts and he seemed unable to raise his eyes any higher. She looked delectable…luscious…scrumptious...

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he tried in vain to find a suitable description of her that did not pertain to food. He knew there had to be thousands but they danced just out of his mental grasp.

"I always like to see a half naked man in the kitchen first thing in the morning." She smiled lasciviously, knowing the effect she was having on him. Well, it was his own fault for taking her blouse but she had to admit to reveling in the feel of his shirt on her body. It was the next best thing to having _him_ on her body.

She stepped toward him and ran a finger up his stomach to his chest.

"You look yummy," she said.

His eyes darted up to meet hers, the serious look on his face abruptly dissolving into a sheepish grin.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you," he snorted.

She stood on tip-toe and kissed him. "Good morning," she said, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

"Good morning," he responded thickly, preparing for a more intense morning greeting.

"Mmm…coffee," she said, pulling away from him playfully and circling the outer edge of the kitchen island.

"Did you sleep well in your new bed?" she asked cheerfully, widening her eyes in feigned innocence and resting her elbows on the counter-top, the neck of his shirt gaping open loosely on her chest.

He cocked his head and gave her a sidelong look of appreciation. Taking a deep breath to clear his head he made his way to the cupboard, pulled down two coffee mugs and placed them on the counter by the coffeemaker.

"I slept very well, thank you. But I don't think the bed had anything to do with it." He slipped her a knowing glance before pouring the coffee. "And how did you sleep?"

She stretched, yawned and reached for the mug he'd placed in front of her.

"Like the dead."

If the words had been physically tangible they would have dropped to the counter with the weight of rocks.

His brows shot up at her choice of words and he smiled at her over his coffee. "Really? That well?"

"Oh my god, Mick! I didn't mean to say that! I… I'm sorry!" she stuttered. "Josh used to say that in the morning and I…"

Talking about the dead first thing in the morning he could deal with. Talking about her recently deceased almost fiancé brought the familiar furrow to appear briefly between his brows.

"Shit!" she muttered. "I'm just making this worse, aren't I?"

"Hm hmm." He nodded, sipping the steaming coffee and trying not to break out in a grin at her discomfiture.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking about…you know…" She brought one finger to her mouth and motioned to a pearly eyetooth she exposed by raising one corner of her upper lip.

"It's OK," he chuckled. He set his cup aside, leaned over the counter and wrapped his long fingers over hers. "Actually…I said the same thing to Josef a couple of weeks ago." He ducked his head down to catch her eyes and draw them up. "It's just funnier when we say it."

She returned his grin with a weak smile.

"As for Josh…he was a good man. And he loved you." He shook his head and gave her hands a squeeze that pressed them against the warmth of the glass mug. "I can't fault him for that."

"Thank you," she said softly, wiping at her eyes. His understanding was a balm to wounds that were still easily opened. Her resolve to move on was, evidently, still in its infancy.

He leaned closer and rested his forehead against hers, giving them each a moment to come back to the present and try to re-bury the past. He thought that there might be a lot of moments like this in their future. Time was a great healer…but it could be slower than hell sometimes.

He straightened suddenly and raised her chin with his palm.

"Hey. Come to the beach with me today." He gave her his most brilliant _please don't turn me down_ look.

"The beach?" she asked with surprise. "Really? You want to go to the beach?"

"Sure." He leaned back against the counter and tried not to look as excited over the prospect of a day at the shore as he felt. Just the thought made him feel like a kid again.

"Sand, surf…" He took a drink from his cup. "…sun."

"Sun?"

"Yeah!" He shrugged one shoulder as his eyes roamed to that place above her head where he always looked when he was trying to escape her scrutiny. She wondered if he did that with others as well.

"I like the sun." His barely contained smile erupted into a wide grin and she noticed the youthfulness in his eyes that belied his true age. That had always been the incongruency in his appearance before she knew what he was. His eyes showed an age that was much older than his body projected. But it was gone now. Hidden beneath his fervor to experience the life that had been taken from him so long ago.

She appraised the faint tan he had on his face and forearms. It looked positively dark compared with the paleness of his shoulders, back and chest. He would suck up the UV rays like a sponge.

_So he liked the sun, did he? Well the sun was going to like him just fine, too._

"So? What do you say? Will you go with me? I'll even pack a lunch for us," he said, trying to sweeten the bargain.

She giggled at his excitement and let his infectious mood wash over her.

"OK," she nodded. "Sure! I have to go back to work tomorrow but the beach sounds like fun…" she trailed off, her gaze slipping past him.

"What is that?" she asked.

"What's what?" He looked down at his hands and chest, fearful for a moment that he might have drops of blood on him from disposing of Josef's partially consumed snack from last night.

"That," she said and stepped around the island to stand facing the counter he was leaning against.

Mick turned and saw the clear plastic tubing drooping through a two inch breach in the back wall of the shelf behind him at the same time she did. But he wasn't quick enough to stop her from sliding the back open to its full width, exposing three plump bags of blood.

He looked on as she pulled one from the compartment.

"Beth…don't…" he started, but she was already cradling one bag in the bend of her elbow and was pulling out the other two, the loose tubing on one uncurling in a spiral to the hem of his shirt.

"It's blood," she said flatly. Her confused look disappeared as understanding swept over her face.

"Is this your stash?" she whispered conspiratorially, her nose crinkling as curiosity sparked in her eyes.

"What? My stash?…no. No!" He was stuttering in his attempt to explain. _Stash? Had she really called it his 'stash'? He was so going to kill Josef._

"It is, isn't it?!" she said excitedly. "I never thought about it before but I guess you can't really store it next to the pop in the refrigerator can you? A little too obvious if you have unexpected guests."

She bobbed her head back and forth as she processed her find. _A secret compartment? How many other hidey holes did he have? How many other secrets? _

He raised one hand to cover his eyes while his mouth worked at trying to pull words out of his stunned mind. He had never thought he'd have to explain his…stash. That _was _basically what it was. Except it wasn't his!

She turned one unwieldy bag over to examine it, her glow of discovery dimming as she read the plain white office label on it. Each bag appeared to have a similar label.

"There are names on these. Elle?" she read as she placed the first ag on the counter beside her.

"Katiana?" She made a face as she read the last name. "Oh look…" she held the bag up for Mick's inspection. "Brittany dots her 'I's with little hearts. Isn't that sweet?"

Sarcasm dripped from her words as her lips tightened into a curl of distaste. She watched for his reaction to having Brittany's, (_with a little heart dancing over the 'I', isn't that just so special?) _blood held between their faces and waited tensely for his response.

"Beth, these aren't mine."

Of all the things she had expected him to say this wasn't one of them. Her mouth turned down as she ticked off the steps that had led her to what she considered to be the logical conclusion she'd arrived at.

"Let's see. Bags of blood? Found in a secret compartment? In the house of a vampire…"

"_Former_ vampire!" he interjected. "Former, Beth"

She gave him a questioning look before acknowledging that the word 'former' might play a pivotal role in their conversation.

He began to gently take the bags from her, starting with Katiana's which was perched precariously in the crook of her arm, and place them back in the cooler. "They belong to Josef, Beth. I don't have anything to offer him when he comes here now so he brought his own. These are from…" he searched for just the right word and thanked his muse when it fell from his mouth with hardly a delay. "…donors that Josef employs."

"He buys their blood?" she asked incredulously. Mick had told her he got his blood from the blood bank. She had never considered that others would pay humans to donate fresh blood.

While she mulled this new information over he tucked the last bit of tubing through the backing of the shelf and slid the door closed. It wasn't difficult. Too bad Josef couldn't seem to do it.

"Have you ever paid…donors?" she asked.

"Beth…don't. Please? Can we talk about this another time?" There would be plenty of time to talk about the Edward Hyde of his life and he knew one question would lead to a thousand others. He just wasn't prepared right now to provide an explanation of freshies and whether or not he'd ever employed them himself. He wanted to leave the vampire behind him for as long as he could.

"But…"

"Please Beth?" He tried to convey his earnestness in backing away from her line of questioning but knew he'd have to give her some promise of satisfaction. "I'll answer your questions…just not right now. Ok? Not today."

She looked at the pleading expression on his face and felt small for ruining his exuberant mood. But she had so many questions. She wanted to know all about him. Who he had been before he'd been turned and what his life was like afterwards. How he fed and whether or not that was consistent with others in the 'community' were the type of questions she was used to pursuing. It wasn't easy to let go of a lead once she had it firmly in her grasp.

She opened her mouth wanting to make one last appeal for an answer.

"Shhh," he shook his head and put a finger to her lips to prevent the words from spilling out.

She snapped her mouth shut, pressed her lips together tightly and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. They had definitely taken their relationship to the next level last night. But good sex…alright…absolutely fantastic, mind blowing sex…did not necessarily make them a couple. If she wanted to get to 'girlfriend' status she felt she had better start respecting some of his requests about his personal life and let it be brought up in natural conversation rather than interrogating him.

There was just one question she had to ask.

"Do you have sun-screen?" she blurted. "Cause out there on the beach your old friend Mr. Sun is gonna fry you like bacon without it!"

**A/N: Now who can resist sexy sizzlin' Mick on the beach? Hmmm?**

**And Beth has a bit of jealousy harbored behind that sweet smile doesn't she? I don't blame her. I would too! The sun won't be the only thing at the beach that will be Hot! Hot! Hot!**

**So now it's your turn to review, review, review! Take your time. Mick and Beth are having fun at the beach and I'm just sitting here….waiting…waiting…waiting to hear from you. (psst…it's that little button down at the bottom marked "Review This Story/Chapter") **

**. **


	25. Chapter 25Picnics and Paranoia

Chapter 25-Picnics and Paranoia

**Disclaimer: Moonlight belongs to all of us! Especially since CBS didn't want it!**

**A/N: Surprise! Bet you thought you wouldn't be seeing me again. Well you won't get rid of me that easy. Mainly because this story keeps going round and round in my head. I just need to win the lottery so I can devote my time to writing and not have to worry about earning money to buy food!**

**I think we were going to the beach weren't we?**

Make It Mine by Jason Mraz

I keep my life on a heavy rotation. Requesting that it's lifting you up, up, up and away,

And over to a table at the gratitude café.  
And I am finally there. And all the angels they'll be singing  
Ah la la la; ah la la la; I la la la la love this!

Well I don't wanna break before the tour is over.

I'm gonna make it mine, Oh yes I... ……I will own it.  
I'm gonna make it mine, yes I'll make it all mine...

Timing's everything. And this time there's plenty I am balancing.  
Carefully and steady. Reveling in energy that everyone's emitting.

Well I don't wanna wait no more. Oh I wanna celebrate the whole world!  
I'm gonna make it mine. Oh yes I'm following your joy.  
I'm gonna make it mine. Because I... I am open.

I'm gonna make it mine. That's why... I will show it.  
I'm gonna make it all mine.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

"Hey Mick! You're starting to be a regular! You must live in the neighborhood 'cause you're surely not traveling clear across town just to shop here."

Mick grinned broadly at the older looking man behind the tall glass deli counter. There was something special about being known by your first name at the local grocery after so many years of anonymity. Alan Simons was in his late fifties and ran Simon's Grocery and Deli with the help of his wife, one store clerk and a couple of local teens who bagged groceries, stocked shelves and cleaned.

"Morning Mr. Simons. Yeah, actually, I live just a few blocks from here." Mick removed his sunglasses and used them to point in the general direction of his building. "I'm trying to get reacquainted with the neighborhood. I've…uh…been away for awhile."

The grocer walked around the display case, leaned one arm on the top and appraised the man yet again. Mick had been in his store almost every day for about the past week. The first time he was wound pretty tight and it was obvious he'd been on the losing end of a bad fight. Maybe with one of the local punks who occasionally came into the store and walked back out with a five fingered discount on something. However he'd been injured, the cuts and bruises were healing and he seemed more relaxed now. Alan liked people and loved to engage his customers in conversation while they were shopping. There was always a story behind each one and he surmised there was quite a tale behind this lanky young man who had started frequenting his store recently.

"Coming back home again, are ya?" he asked. He hadn't seen Mick before last week and wondered how he fit into the neighborhood. In a half dozen blocks of each other the high rise penthouse apartment buildings and offices to the north gave way to more modest single level businesses of grocery stores, coffee shops and dry cleaners. Another half dozen blocks to the south brought you to what had once been an affluent area with big old homes built for families with lots of children. Now the dilapidated houses had hordes of kids living in them but they were usually stoned, drunk or looking to get that way by stealing from the businesses languishing in the middle ground.

Mick's smile softened and he looked at the keys he was holding in his hand before raising his head and meeting the gaze of the storeowner. "Yeah, something like that."

Alan nodded. _Not a highriser,_ he thought. Those people came to his store for the convenience but always had a hurried, condescending attitude. Mick was a little too genuine to be one of them. Maybe he was trying to reclaim one of those vintage homes. There was starting to be an influx of people trying to fix up those old monstrosities. They were money pits for sure but if you did the work yourself the rewards of seeing it come back to life was worth it. It was a small step in the reclamation of the neighborhood and Alan was all for that.

"Well, there ain't nothin' like it. Family and friends, Mick! That's what life is about and you can take that to the bank," he said, pointing a finger at him for emphasis.

"So!" He stood up straight, clapped his hands and rubbed them together, all the while smiling. "What can I get for you today? I got some rib-eyes back here that'll melt in your mouth!" he said, jerking his thumb at the cooler behind him. "What do you say?"

Mick shook his head. "Sounds good but I'll take a rain check on the steaks. Today I need picnic food. "_I_…" he said, pausing to take a deep breath, "…am going to the beach!"

Alan looked at Mick even more closely. The slender man had declared the beach as his destination with as much enthusiasm someone else might use to proclaim they were going to Paris. Judging from his light complexion it didn't appear as though he'd logged a lot of beach time lately. The sunny California coast might do him good. He had a look about him that said he spent way too much time indoors. Maybe he was one of those techie people who always worked inside on computers and stuff.

"The beach? Well then, that calls for an entirely different type of food." He wandered back behind the counter and hefted a huge block of white cheese from the interior. "You know, it's not really a picnic if it's only for one. You got someone going with you?" He watched as the smile widened and the eyes crinkled with delight.

"Yep! My best girl. I promised her I'd provide the picnic lunch but I'm not very good at putting this type of stuff together." His eyes grazed over the assortment of meats and cheeses in the trays behind the glass.

The grocer shook his head and chuckled. _His best girl?_ That was a description his father has used when talking about his mother. He'd always called her 'his best girl'. It seemed a very old-fashioned statement from someone as young as the man before him.

"Well, your 'best girl' deserves nothing but the best! I'll put you together a picnic she'll never forget!"

From the back of the store Alan's wife watched as her husband talked with Mick. She was trying to understand the incongruities of seeing someone she knew didn't eat buying food on a regular basis. The cuts and bruises were odd too. She'd never seen a vampire with an injury that hadn't healed in seconds. Maybe this was a different Mick. Not St. John but Adams or Smith. After all it had been years since she had last seen him. She could be mistaken.

But then he turned and she saw his eyes clearly for the first time. She knew without getting any closer that they were a distinctive color combination that swirled between hazel and blue depending on the lighting. Her hand fluttered up to her mouth at her intake of breath and then drifted down to rest across her neck She'd seen those eyes drain of color just before feeling the exquisite touch of his fangs at her throat. She'd never had sex that was as good as having an experienced vampire feeding from her neck and Mick had been her favorite. He never rushed the feeding and made sure she was as satisfied as he was. The climax would roll on and on, cresting in her body like waves thundering on the shore until she was spent and relaxed. The feeling of euphoria would last for days afterward and would draw her back into the rotation of freshies at Josef's as soon as she was able.

He might not remember her from all the other girls in Josef's harem so many years ago but she certainly remembered him. And she wondered what change he had gone through in order to gain his humanity back. All the girls had known that Mick was reluctant to fully embrace his vampirism. But that was why they had liked him. Josef had paid them well and never mistreated them but there was never any doubt as to why they were there. They were food, first and foremost. And as such they needed to be cared for much like a rancher cares for his herd of cattle. With Mick she had never felt like she was prostituting herself. She was a human woman first. And after each rapturous feeding, her body reeling from the pleasure and her mind from his enthrallment, he would lay her down gently and she would hear him say, "I'm sorry."

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

There hadn't been much of an attempt to stop the fire. The building was already engulfed by the time the fire units had arrived. Fueled by the desert dry wood in the structure and the bottles of liquor stored in the bar it had gone up in a fury of flames. The concrete barricades, used to prevent drunken patrons from driving through the building by accident, were blackened by soot and formed a partial perimeter around the smoldering remains.

Carl stalked once more around the gravel driveway looking at the rubble from several different angles in the fresh morning light. All of them had shown him the same disheartening picture. There was nothing left. Forensics hadn't had the time to gather the evidence and any prints or blood that had been there were now part of the sandy desert landscape.

Completing the circuit around the charred remains of the bar he walked back to his car, sat on the hood with one foot propped up on the front bumper and stared dismally out at the desert. He'd come directly to the bar from Mick's last night and then spent the rest of the early morning hours in his office. He was hot, tired and hungry. But he had also come to some difficult decisions.

The first was that he wasn't going to keep kicking himself in the ass about letting Rodriguez go. Taking a statement from a man about some avenging angel hauling Tejada's ass out into the desert night would not help the case and would only undermine his position. He was about to head down a lonely road and didn't need his colleagues throwing the Angel con Venganza around if they were ever asked just when they saw what they thought might have been his first break with reality.

He _was_ pissed off that the little Mexican had come back and torched the place. The forensics team had been very clear that they'd had to run him out of the building just before the fire took off. Evidently he hadn't wanted Carl to find any solid evidence of the Angel's visit to the Hollenbeck which pushed Carl just a little further down that lonely road he'd started down back at Bobby's.

Second, he was going to run the investigation into Lindsay's murder and Tejada's disappearance strictly by the book. Every 'i' was going to be dotted and 't' crossed. He was going to demand attention be paid to details and every step they made would be documented in triplicate. No one would be able to point a finger at his investigation and say he hadn't followed procedure. If, and he hated to say it but he thought this was a big 'if', anyone was ever brought in for either crime, he didn't want them walking because of shoddy work. However, he was also going to run his own investigation.

He looked behind him through the windshield of his car and stared at the innocuous envelope that had been waiting for him when he'd arrived at his desk last night. He turned away and let out a hiss of disgust as he rubbed his hand over his face.

The envelope contained an extensive records search that Lindsey had ordered using the name Mick or Michael St. John in Los Angeles. The results were surprising narrow, only three over the last eighty five years, and they grew progressively superficial as the time line advanced. The Mick St. John, born circa 1976, had the vaguest history of them all and was apparently the Mick St. John currently operating as a private investigator in Los Angeles.

The earlier version was also a PI, date of birth anywhere from 1940-50, depending on the document, and was the one most likely who had worked with Bobby. There was no record of a marriage but there was a divorce decree in 1982 from one Coraline DuVall. This Mick seemed to merge with the current one shortly after a certain little girl by the name of Bethany Turner was kidnapped by an unknown woman. St. John Investigations had been hired by the mother to find Beth and she was returned four days later unharmed. No charges were ever filed. After that the paper trail on this Mick St. John cooled until around eight years ago. That would have been when current Mick supposedly took over the business from his dad. Except that there was no record of a Mick St. John senior. As a matter of fact, there was no verifiable family history on either of them with the exception of the ex-wife.

The first Mick St. John, and apparently the original, was born Michael Andrew St. John on November 13th, 1922. The son of Evan and Beatrice. One brother, named after the father, was killed in a military skirmish in China several years before the world went to war for the second time. His sister, Rebecca, passed away just four years ago at the ripe old age of ninety, outliving her husband and daughter by many years. Little Micky didn't seem to be named for anyone and must have been a surprise to his parents because he was ten years younger than his sister and twelve years younger than big brother.

There were school records and even a military record showing he'd been in the army for four years and fought in WWII. He'd been a medic, was wounded in battle and honorably discharged. He returned home just before the war ended and married one Coraline DuVall in 1952. In a perverted twist of fate what the war spared the St. John's had been taken from them during peace time and on American soil. Their son disappeared the night of his wedding and was never seen again.

His parents filed a missing person report but there were never any leads. He and his new wife just vanished. No one seemed to care much about the wife because there was never a file started on her except in connection to Mick St. John's disappearance, but the general consensus was that she was somehow responsible for his disappearance. Whatever the case, neither of them surfaced again until the divorce decree in 1982, thirty years later. Coincidental?

It might be crazy. And he might be nuts. But it was _not _coincidental. The three men were connected. Hell…he was beginning to think they were the _same_ man. Now how fucked up was that? Eight years on the force, hundreds of investigations under his belt and he thought a man born in 1922 was still alive eighty five years later and looking not a day over thirty.

Of course the photo the researcher had unearthed helped. The notes said it had been taken in 1949. Lee Jay Spaulding had included it in his book to give a face to the man he said had beaten and tried to kill him.

Carl knew the moment he laid eyes on the picture that it was the same Mick St. John he'd visited last night. And the same one who'd made Bustos piss himself in the interrogation room without doing anything more than talking to him. He'd bet a year's salary on it. He was that sure.

How it happened to be true he didn't know and couldn't, at this point, understand. He knew he'd been asking all the right questions but he kept coming up with what he thought were the wrong answers. Now he believed they weren't so wrong. Outlandish and bizarre but not wrong.

This man-if that was what he was-whose life spanned over eighty years, had been friends with his dad and Bobby. According to Bobby, Carl wouldn't even be here today if Mick hadn't stepped in at the right moment. Carl owed the man his dad's life and his own. But he still intended to find out how it was possible.

Tejada's disappearance was a concern only if the bastard had escaped. If he'd been murdered by an unknown party Carl did not necessarily feel any remorse over the loss. But he needed to know the mechanics of it. How it occurred and how Mick was involved. Because, without a doubt, Carl knew he was. And he didn't know what scared him most. That a man might live that long and not age…or that he believed it was even possible.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

_It has to be here. It has to be!_

She was on her hands and knees on the bathroom floor running her fingers over the molding and into the corners between the sink cabinet and the tub, then across the front and around the other side next to the toilet. Sitting back on her heels she grimaced at the feel of the grime, gave a little shiver and grabbed a towel to wipe her hand with.

She'd always considered herself to be a fairly good housekeeper but she'd never gotten nose to floor with her house before. She might have to reconsider her cleaning abilities after this little foray into what she had thought was a relatively sanitary bathroom.

There wasn't room for her to peer around the back of the toilet so she had no choice but to reach behind it.

"Come on…come on. Where is it!" she muttered, her face next to the cool white surface of the tank.

Withdrawing her hand she had nothing to show for her effort except a fine film of moist dirt and some minute pieces of toilet paper. Not as bad as she had thought it might be but it hadn't produced the results she'd wanted. Wiping her hand again she eyed the toilet bowl.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," she said grimly as she raised the rim and plunged her right arm into the throat of the porcelain throne, reaching as far back as she could and wiggling her fingers along the unseen, and previously unexplored, depths of the fixture.

She had noticed the ring was not in the jewelry dish when she went back to her apartment to gather her beach gear yesterday morning. It had played at the back of her mind all day while she was with Mick as she thought of different scenarios for it not being where she last remembered seeing it.

Upon returning home late last evening she'd done a cursory search of the bath and bedroom. After showering and changing into her nightshirt she gave fresh water to the roses and checked over the counter surfaces in the kitchen. She was sure it was in the house…she had just misplaced it.

She went to bed and lay for twenty minutes while her mind searched behind her closed lids for any obvious place she'd forgotten to look. The apartment was barely four rooms and that included the bathroom. There just weren't that many places it could be.

At 11:30 she came out of a doze with a brainstorm that she might have hidden the piece of jewelry rather than just lost it. Her mind had been playing tricks on her of late and she was finding it increasingly difficult to blame everything on the stress of losing Josh. She was beginning to feel like the butt of all the blonde jokes she'd heard over the years. Only she wasn't laughing. She just knew that she really didn't like to be alone in the apartment anymore. Maybe it was time to find another place. One without the memories of Josh lingering in every room.

Not waiting for her eyes to adjust to the overhead bathroom light she pulled a new box of tampons out of the cabinet and turned it upside down. This was where she stashed what she considered to be her 'good' jewelry. The cellophane wrapping was still intact on the top of the box but she'd cut it away from the bottom giving her access to open the lower flap. Her diamond earrings were there in a little plastic baggie and the bracelet her mom had given her for her college graduation. But no ring.

She opened the flap again, emptied the contents on the counter and rolled her fingers over the sealed tubes to separate them. The results caused one corner of her mouth to tighten in disappointment. After completely dismantling the box to be sure the ring hadn't slid under the top flap, she left them lay and plodded back to bed.

She had slept badly and when she had fallen asleep she'd dreamed of being sent on errands to look for mysterious objects that she could never find. And now, at 6:00 am, she was reduced to crawling on her hands and knees over her floor and shoving her hand into the recesses of her toilet. Could it possibly get much better than this? God…she hoped not or she'd be moving into Gateways Hospital. She could tell them all about vampires roaming at night and maybe her roommate could expound on the werewolf population within the city.

"Hmmmph," she huffed. She'd laugh if she didn't find it so disturbing.

"Oh Josh…" she sobbed and then bit her lip to keep from crying. How could she have been so careless to have lost his ring?

She stood and looked at herself in the mirror, sleepless eyes staring back at her in disapproval.

"Then you tell me where it is!" she barked at her reflection.

When no answer was forthcoming she picked up the soap to wash her hands and stared down into the open drain of the sink. It yawned back, exposing a wide, black hole large enough to drop a quarter into and certainly large enough to swallow Josh's ring.

Hope blossomed in her heart as she quickly opened the doors below the sink and looked at the plumbing where there was a twist of plastic pipe running from the bottom of the sink and into the wall at the back of the cabinet. She tapped on the bend forming the trap and was rewarded with a solid, muted sound from within it. If the ring had fallen into the sink it would surely have lodged in this pipe. Now, all she had to do was get it apart.

Not having anything remotely resembling a pipe wrench she tested the upper slip-nut with her fingers and felt it give ever so slightly. _She could do this!_ Using the hand towel to help her grip she twisted the ring of plastic again, applying more pressure than before and succeeded in completely releasing the P-trap from its bottom section of straight pipe. Water seeped over the top of the open pipe and wicked into the hand towel she was using.

Highly encouraged by her success so far, she went to work on the nut at the back. It proved to be a much tighter fit and refused to budge, so she twisted the P-trap instead of trying to release the slip-nut.

The sound of the plastic nut snapping in half preceded the gush of water from the loose plumbing she held in her hand by only a split second. A murky slime adhered to a web of hair that the pipe partially vomited out onto her hands.

With a guttural cry of revulsion she dropped both the towel and pipe and involuntarily shook her hands to rid them of the muck. The resulting spatter flew through the air to land on the walls of the room and across her T-shirt. The small plastic tube had held a deceptively large volume of liquid and sludge and after viewing the contents she understood why her sink had been draining slowly over the last few weeks.

She reached for the bath towel behind her and tried to wipe off as much of the waste from her hands and body as she could. The pipe lay across the bottom of the cabinet as through it were a small animal that had recently disgorged its entrails. Voicing a bleat of disgust she used the towel to pick up the curved tube and shake it to dislodge the ring she hoprd was hiding in the goo. She didn't hear or see anything that could be the ring but to be sure she leaned over the side of the tub next to her and rinsed out the sink trap using the tub spigot. It ran clean and her hope dissolved as quickly as the water disappeared down the drain.

She dropped back to the floor, sat with her back against the wall and tossed the ruined piece of plumbing back under the sink. A wail of frustration erupted from her and tears coursed down her face at her loss. If Josh were there he'd sit on the floor next to her, put his arm around her and tell her not to weep over losing a ring. She'd bury her face in his shoulder and allow him to stroke her head in a futile effort to comfort her.

However, what she wanted, and needed, was a cool strong hand extended down to lift her from the floor and her emotional low. A hand that would draw her up to stand on her own and face the man who would share his strength with her. A man who would tell her that, though her losses were great they could be withstood. And he would be there to help her.

The thought of Mick braced her and she stood, with the help of his mental image still embedded in her mind. She had two hours to get to work and she both dreaded and looked forward to it.

She wouldn't be staying at BuzzWire much longer. She'd been coming to the conclusion for several weeks that the type of reporting she had been doing was not enough for her. She liked the involvement of working on a case instead of reporting a story. The few serious cases she'd helped on with Josh and Mick made the fluff and sleaze stories BuzzWire sent her on even trashier.

The daunting tasks of changing jobs and moving out of her apartment were too large to give serious consideration at the moment. And since it didn't appear she was going to find the ring she decided to concentrate on getting through the hours of her work shift somehow. That, and calling maintenance to fix the mess she'd made of her bathroom sink.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

Fresh from the shower, Mick laid his head down on the pillow and stretched out luxuriously across the bed. Initially, after he had absorbed the compound, he'd been interested in the warmth that life had to offer. Now, he was finding its counterpart was equally as enjoyable. The bed linens were cool and comfortable and his eyes drifted closed even though his mind was ruminating over the day's events.

If the day could have been any more perfect he certainly didn't know how. The beach they'd picked was less frequented by families and tourists who tended to stay nearer to the boardwalks and shops. That had allowed the two of them a bit more privacy. They mostly talked and laughed as they walked the sandy beach and played in the water but there had been a few clandestine kisses and possessive hand-holding during the day and the heat his body had generated during numerous applications of sunscreen had nothing to do with the sun.

The thought of how slick her skin felt with the lotion sliding between his fingers and her back brought a satisfied smile to his face. But the best part had been when she had massaged it into his back and shoulders. There had been nothing sexual about it but it had to be one of the most sensual things he experienced in years. The touch of another was truly a human need as much as air and food and he had deprived himself of this simple human interaction for decades out of …what? Fear? Self-punishment perhaps? Beth's hands on his back and shoulders pushed his sensuality to its limits more than he could have imagined. Her familiar touch filled the empty well in the center of his being and bathed the shriveled husk that had served as his soul for so long. He felt himself being replenished as blood and cold had never been able to do. He was connected again and could hardly contain his desire for more.

On a more secluded beach he would have removed the bits of fabric that served to protect her modesty on a public beach, laid her down in the surf and made love to her as the waves washed over them. One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as he sleepily imagined Beth lying on top of him as the sea ate the sandy beach away from beneath them.

Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr had been kissing at the waters edge on the shores of the big island a little over a year after he'd kissed Coraline for the first time as his lawfully wedded wife. That year had been a living hell for him, caught between what he had become and what he had so recently left behind. When he was able to steal away from her he'd often slip into a movie house and live life vicariously through the characters on the big screen.

_From Here to Eternity_ had been a favorite of his and he'd watched it in every theater in town for as long as it had played. He'd found that when his mind was occupied with the storyline of the movie he couldn't feel his bride worming around in his thoughts. It provided a brief respite from the servitude she demanded and he was somehow unable to deny her. But he'd always come away with that kissing scene from the beach stowed away in a corner of his mind. It was the beginning of his ability to shield his mind from Coraline and gave him as much satisfaction as it gave her cause for unease.

The air conditioning came on in the apartment and blew its chilly air throughout the room. Rousing briefly he slid under the top linens and settled in on his side with a sigh of satisfaction. Cool air played in swirls around him and he pulled the comforter up over his shoulders, his breath warming the small pocket of air between his face and pillow. It was amazing how his body could enjoy such opposite sensations. There were so many different levels of comfort to relish as a human.

His breathing settled into a deeper rhythm as he reached across the cool empty sheet of the bed for the warm body that had lain next to him the night before. His fingers spread and kneaded as he pulled the dream to his chest and snuffled in contentment. His mind released the string of thoughts regarding his ex-wife. They were inconsequential memories of a past that no longer held him in its tight-fisted grip and they floated away through the fog of approaching sleep.

**A/N: That finishes the Jason Mraz song 'Make It Mine'. I just thought it epitomized how Mick was feeling and had to use it.**

**In writing about Mick and Beth on the beach I kept seeing that classic kissing scene from the movie 'From Here to Eternity'. (Pardon me but those are a few excess years showing there…please don't stare!). The movie would have been made during the right time frame and was a huge hit. I knew Mick would have been thinking about it even if Beth had never seen it. **

**So…it would seem that everyone has had a pretty miserable nights sleep except Mick! It was time to cut him a break didn't you think? Maybe he's finally burying the past. Too bad there seem to be so many people around wanting to dig it back up!**

**I know I don't deserve it because I've been so bad at updating but I could really use the encouragement of a review or two. Punish me if you must…but do it by pressing that review button. We'll both feel so much better when it's over! **


	26. Home Is Where The Heart Is

Chapter 26-Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Disclaimer: I do not own Moonlight. I'm just making up stories here.**

**A/N: Do you know what happens when you call pest-control to get rid of the termites that are eating your house and garage to the ground? The little devils go back underground and pop up under the gazebo two doors down! What had been your problem now belongs to your neighbor. That's a pretty good analogy for what's happening with Max in this chapter. Read on but grab the bug-spray!**

Max saw the motley gathering of people in front of his building from a block away. Curious, he slowed to the speed limit as he drove past and tried to check out who they were and what had them so interested. They seemed to be pawing through clothes and odd pieces of household items that lay strewn across the sidewalk and gutter.

A thread of unease uncoiled in his gut as he gunned the car into a U-turn at the corner and came back up the street, passing the cluster of people again and parking in the yellow striped Unloading Zone for the defunct business next to his office.

"Hey! I saw that first!" yelled one skinny boy in baggy shorts and a torn T-shirt. He grabbed at the pair of jeans that an older teen had jerked out of his hands.

"Too bad! They're mine now!" the kid jeered as he danced around behind the growing group to avoid the smaller boy who had launched himself at his legs. He wasn't quick enough though and the tackle brought him down to meet the sidewalk with his nose while the first boy ran off with the hard-won jeans that were sure to be way too big for him.

"You little prick! I'll break your fuckin' neck!" yelled the downed teen. However, the impact of his words were lost as he cupped his dripping nose with one hand and grabbed a dingy white T-shirt from the heap of clothing with the other to staunch the flow of blood.

Max picked up a jacket from mound of clothing just before a woman old enough to be his grandmother could wrap her knobby fingers around it. It was his. He'd bought it two years before from a local second hand store because he thought the logo was cool. All this stuff was his! And a good deal of it was walking away in the arms of the various street-people and locals.

He ducked instinctively as a black plastic trash bag whizzed past his head and landed in the middle of what was left of his belonging on the sidewalk. It started a frenzy of arms and hands reaching out to tear open the sack and devour its contents.

_Christ, they were like sharks smelling fresh blood in the water._

He gave a war hoot and rushed into them, knocking a couple of kids and one old man aside, and retrieving the bag by sheer surprise. He managed to get it back to his car and into his trunk before the howls and shouts of threats could turn into a physical attack. If they rushed him he wouldn't have a chance of fighting them off and finding out why his personal effects were being hurled out into the street like tomorrow was trash day.

Glowering, and giving them as wide a berth as he could manage, he sidled alongside the building and stood in the doorway to his office. The man on the other side was twenty years older, a good hundred pounds heavier and stood at least seven inches taller than Max's five-foot-ten. His face was beet-red and he was chewing on a fat unlit cigar while he emptied the drawers from Max's desk into another black garbage bag.

"Hey man! What the fuck are you doing?" Max entered the room and looked around in disbelief. The drawers where he kept his clothes and personal items were empty and lay haphazardly in front of the built-in cabinets. All the papers from his case files that he kept in one of the lower drawers had been dumped in a large plastic garbage can sitting in the middle of the room. He noticed with alarm that the box springs and mattress of his bed had been upended and were leaning against one wall exposing odd bits of trash and various pieces of unwashed underclothing beneath the skeleton of the bed frame.

The man who was the cause of all this destruction straightened from his work and slowly turned to glare at Max. When he recognized him he grinned maliciously and bit down on the soggy end of the cigar with teeth that were stained brown from tobacco.

It was an effort for Max to stand his ground as his landlord lumbered toward him.

"I'm throwing _your _shit…" he paused to take the cigar out of his mouth use it to point at Max, who stood shivering with outrage in front of him. "…out of _my_ building!"

"You can't do that! This is my stuff!" Max replied trying to muster a belligerent tone while facing the huge man.

"The hell I can't. You don't pay the rent…you don't get to live here and you sure as hell don't get to store your fucking shit here." The man held a sheaf of papers under Max's nose before pitching them forcefully into the trash bag.

"That's illegal! You can't just throw my stuff out on the sidewalk. You gotta give me notice. I'll…I'll call the cops!"

A nasty grin spread across the big man's grizzled face. His head swiveled slightly to one side as he worked a bit of loose tobacco to the end of his tongue and spat it on the floor, but he never took his eyes off of Max.

"Go ahead. Call them." His voice growled deep and so softly that Max had to strain to hear him. "We'll see what they have to say about that bag of white powder I found hidden under your bed. It sure looked suspicious to me plastered to the bottom of your bed. I'll bet the cops would be real interested in taking a look at it while they're here talking to you about your fucking 'stuff'."

Max's face blanched and he looked again at the dismantled bed. He had 'acquired' the cocaine from the boyfriend of one of his ladies over a year ago. He'd taped the bag to the bottom of one of the bed slats which was now standing upright in the corner of the room next to the stained mattress and box springs. He didn't use the stuff. His drugs of choice were cheap. Tobacco, booze and occasionally some pot. But he'd kept the coke thinking he might be able to sell it if he ended up needing cash in an emergency.

His landlord leaned toward him, the smell of cigars and Chinese food on his breath causing Max to suspend his breathing involuntarily.

"Some big private investigator you are! You hide coke under your bed? What a fucking moron." He turned back to his work.

"Look…I…I've got some money." The man stopped tossing papers into the garbage can and gave Max a glare over his shoulder. "Three-hundred dollars!" Max added hoping that it sounded like a lot more than it was.

The man snorted and stuck the cigar back in his mouth. "You ain't got jack-shit. But even if you did three hundred dollars is a drop in the piss bucket for what you owe me."

"Okay…okay…five! I got five hundred!" He actually had eight hundred from the sale of the ring he taken from Beth's apartment. It had been a lot more valuable than he'd originally thought. He'd done business with the pawn shop owner before and had managed to work a good deal with him.

The older man's eyes narrowed and he turned to face Max again.

"Show me," he said roughly.

Max pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and thanked god that he'd hidden three hundred under the insole in the right boot he was wearing. He didn't want the guy to see how much cash he really had.

The heavy man rolled the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other while he looked at the five one hundred dollar bills fanned out in Max's hand. Chewing on the sodden tobacco he considered Max and how he might have obtained such a sum of cash but quickly decided it really wasn't of any concern to him. He reached out with a thick fingered hand, grabbed the money and had it pocketed with surprising swiftness for a man his size. Max gaped at his empty hand.

"I'll get you the rest in a couple of weeks. I got a job coming up that's gonna pay real good."

"Yeah. Right. And I've got a diamond mine in my basement." He shoved the plastic garbage can toward Max with one booted foot. "If you want this take it and get out."

The stunned look on Max's face caused the big guy to laugh. "Your stuff on the sidewalk is walking away. If you want any of it you'd better go get it now. "

"But….but I just gave you five hundred dollars!" The pitiful whine he heard in his voice made him cringe.

"Yeah. And you still owe me seven and the rent's due again in three days," the landlord yelled. "Now take your shit and get the hell out-a-here!" He kicked the garbage can again and it toppled over, papers and folders sliding out of the interior and across the floor.

Max stooped to gather up the files and lift the can upright. "What about the rest of my stuff? I can't take it in my car. I'll have to come back for it."

"You ain't got nothing 'cept what's in that can and what's out on the street. The way I look at it I now have a furnished office and efficiency apartment. The rent just went up thanks to you! Now get the fuck out before I call the police myself you little prick." He advanced on Max gripping the cigar in his teeth and matching the roar of his voice with a bear like stance.

Max backed toward the door dragging the half-full garbage can, keeping it between him and his erstwhile landlord.

"I have connections you know!" His voice sounded high and wimpy even to his own ears. Max hated himself almost as much as the brute standing in the middle the room. "You'll be sorry you messed with me!"

The man turned once again and looked at Max like he was dog turd he'd just noticed on the floor. In a show of bravado Max lifted his chin and stared back. A sudden forward lurch from his landlord startled him and he stumbled backwards, only keeping his balance by hanging on to the handle of the green rubber garbage can. A second later he realized the humiliating high-pitched squeak he'd heard had come from him.

The man laughed uproariously until he was wheezing for breath. He took the cigar out of his mouth and pointed it at Max, still chuckling at his pale, open-mouthed face.

"Oh yeah…you're one real scary son-of-a-bitch aren't you?" He waved one massive arm in Max's direction, dismissively. "Get the hell out-a-here, will ya? I gotta get this shit-hole cleaned up for my new tenant. I ain't got time to mess with you no more. Cause me trouble and you'll wish I had called the cops."

Max stood quivering from anger and embarrassment a moment longer before dragging the can out the door and down the steps to the sidewalk. There was very little left on the pavement and most of the adults in the group had moved on. The elderly woman was kneeling next to the pile sifting through the remains along with a few kids.

Max stomped into the middle of them, shoved what was left of his belongings into the garbage can and loaded it into his car.

After an hour of driving blindly around in a haze of rage he was out of cigarettes, almost out of gas and in a section of town that looked vaguely familiar. He was still seething about being tossed out on the street. It wasn't so much that he was currently homeless. The landlord had been right. The place was a shit hole and he'd planned on moving out just as soon as his financial situation had improved. Let the fucker have the furnishings. He would have left it all anyway when he moved. He'd just been trying to buy a little more time.

No…what really ripped him was the way the bastard had talked to him…and looked at him. Like he was trash. No better than those people on the street who'd been pawing through his belongings. One day the fat prick would regret that.

Max became aware that he wasn't driving any longer. He was parked along the curb in an older residential area. The reverberating noise of a lawnmower cut through his anger and caused him to focus on where he was. He looked around trying to get his bearings.

Neatly maintained modest homes surrounded him, the suburbia of fifty years ago. In another twenty it would probably be more like the part of town he had so recently resided in but for now it was home to young families and retirees. He was miles from the downtown areas he usually frequented and was just about to pull out and try to find the freeway again when he saw it. A church steeple about three blocks ahead.

He nodded to himself and pulled out into the light residential traffic. As he turned left at the corner where the church sat he felt a calmness sweep over him. He'd come at it from the back side, that's why he hadn't initially recognized where he was.

The street ended at a T-intersection. Left would take him back to the freeway or into the business end of the neighborhood. Cafes, grocery stores, mini-malls. A right would eventually lead him downtown on the stop and go two way streets. But going straight would take him into the parking lot of an apartment building and the haven he needed at the moment.

He could see her balcony overlooking a grassy courtyard. A chaise lawn chair and matching table sat beside what might have at one time been a small potted palm but was now suffering a lingering death from neglect. The balcony was directly off of her bedroom. A room he was intimately acquainted with.

His breathing slowed and his eyes closed. The quivering tightness in his muscles began to relax and, in his mind, he walked through her apartment and imagined what new secrets he might uncover from her dresser or bedside table. He wondered if she had noticed the ring was gone yet; or her necklace…or her silk panties?

His left hand slid into his pants pocket and caressed the delicate smoothness of her panties. Were her wrists and inner arms this soft? Or the skin that ran from her throat down to her breasts?

He groaned and thrust himself against his jeans.

He had never achieved complete intimacy with his ladies. He preferrer the one-sided relationships that allowed him to be involved in their lives without the risk of rejection Beth was different though. And he was beginning to think that this time he might need more than a piece of her lingerie to fondle in order to satisfy himself. He was already familiar with her apartment and her daily routines. But to lay with her and stroke her skin where her delicate underthings rubbed against her and absorbed her scent? To familiarize himself with the peaks and valleys of her body? The dry hollows and the moist sanctuaries?

A tear ran down his face, unchecked. Brought on by some combination of emotions he couldn't understand. Need? Control? Contentment? All that and more that he seemed incapable of categorizing.

Yes, he'd been right from the beginning. This time would be very different from all the others. This time he'd found the woman he could give his heart to. And home was always where the heart was.

M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT M**OO**NLIGHT

The lid on the stainless steel trash can snapped up as he stepped on the lever at the base of the container. With a soggy smack the contents of the skillet he held joined the remnants of his first two attempts to fix himself breakfast.

Flour, sugar, eggs, milk...what else could possibly be used to make pancakes? Mick remembered his mom whipping up pancakes for breakfast and his mouth watered at the memory of the light, airy delicacies with rich slabs of butter and maple syrup dripping down the sides of the stack. He hadn't thought of them in years but slowly his taste buds were awakening and remembering. And today they had remembered pancakes

He hadn't looked up the recipe because he'd thought it couldn't possibly be that difficult to make them. However, the batters he'd mixed had gone from thick heavy dollops of dough on his first try to a thin runny concoction that fried up to be…well…flatter than a pancake.

The last of the mixture went down the disposal, the dirty dishes went into the here-to-fore unused dishwasher and his hopes of enjoying a hot breakfast from his youth went up in smoke…much like his second experiment at frying the cakes.

He poured himself what was left of the milk, grabbed the last apple in the crystal dish on the counter and headed for the computer in his office to search for the elusive combination of ingredients that would satisfy his craving.

He barely heard the tentative rap on his office door as he passed it, stopping in mid-bite of the apple to listen. Times like this made him uncomfortably aware of the loss of his sensitive hearing. Two weeks ago he would have heard the footsteps in the outside corridor. And, if his guest had one, the beating of their hearts as they stood outside his door. Now he was uncertain if he'd even heard the knock.

The question was answered only a moment later with a more forceful assault on the door panel.

He set the glass down on the desk and walked warily to the office door. The message on his business voice-mail told callers he was not accepting any new clients and he didn't intend on making exceptions just because someone was bold enough to come to his office personally before making an appointment.

He opened the door sharply and stared at the disheveled man before him.

"Mr. Simons?" he asked. The man's normally neat and clean appearance had vanished. He needed a shave and looked like he hadn't slept for a couple of days. "Are you alright?"

"Hello Mick." His eyes darted to and fro meeting Mick's only briefly. "I…uh…Look I know you're not taking new clients. We called your number," he said quickly as he ran his hand over his closely cropped graying hair in a gesture of nervousness and frustration. "But…well…I just thought that maybe you could offer some advice to us since…you know…you come into the store a lot." He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his hands down to his sides in a gesture of futility. "We…uh. We're not very good at these things."

Mick shook his head. The man was rambling and needed help in directing his thoughts. In his experience Mick had found that short and to the point questions often helped put people back on track. "Are you in trouble, Mr. Simons?"

The grocer nodded and looked at Mick with a glimmer of hope.

"It's our boy, Austin. He's disappeared. The police haven't been much help and my wife thought we should get someone else who knew about this type of thing. I found your name in the phone book." He grinned half-heartedly and shrugged one shoulder. "You know, I would a-never pegged you for a private investigator."

Mick leaned into the hallway to see if the aforementioned wife had accompanied her husband. The older man turned his head to whisper confidentially to Mick. "She was real nervous about coming over."

The man extended his hand and beckoned to a woman standing a few feet away.

"Come on honey," he coaxed. "This is the man I told you about. He's been coming into the store lately. It's alright. He won't bite."

The woman approached and her husband wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She was tall and slender; her dark hair caught up behind her head in a low pony-tail. Even in her plain clothes she was an attractive woman and had been a real beauty a quarter of a century ago. Mick recognized her immediately although he couldn't quite remember her name. Allie? Ellen?

"Are you sure?" she asked looking directly into his eyes. How many times had she watched the color drain from those eyes as he prepared to nourish himself on her life's blood? Too many and yet not enough. No, never enough. She felt a tingle sing through her body as old memories surfaced. Brought to life again by his rapt attention to her.

Alan Simons offered the introductions. "Mick, this is my wife Elaine. Elaine, this is Mick St. John."

Elaine? The name fell into place. Elly. She'd called herself Elly back when she'd been a young college freshman and in Josef's employ. A sweet young more ways than one. Her blood had always had a dessert-like appeal to him.

She held out her hand and he watched her eyes widen in surprise at the warmth he generated now instead of cool familiar touch of twenty-five years ago.

He shook her hand and returned her direct gaze with a soft smile.

"Believe me…Elaine…my bark is much worse than my bite right now." He turned to include her husband and tilted his head toward the interior of his apartment office. "Why don't you both come in and we'll discuss your son. Maybe I _can_ offer some help.

**A/N: OK…so it looks like Mick might be taking a little time out of his vacation to step back into the PI world. You know what a softie he is when it comes to missing kids. And maybe he'll run across a good pancake house while he's out looking for Austin!**

**Thanks for reading. But your job is not yet finished. Press…the…button. Type…a…review. Make…nightcap…very…happy.**


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